My Rescue Blues
by SkySpade
Summary: [JDA] Traumatic memories are hard to forget, JD knows this more than anyone.
1. My Rescue Blues

**Disclaimer: **All publicly recognizable characters, settings, etc. are the property of their respective owners. The original characters and plot are the property of the author. No money is being made from the work on this site. No copyright infringement is intended and nothing is to be taken seriously or as fact.

**My Rescue Blues**

"_Shit_… I'm sorry," I mumbled as my sharp turn around the corner bumped me into a steely chest. A scatter of silver and white filled my eyes as I watched the multiple onion-thin sheets of paper and clipboards fall to the ground. When I bend down to help gather the wreckage into my hands, my cup of coffee instantly slips from my shaky grip and spills hot, brown liquid onto the papers and the white sneakers of the man's shoes. "Damn it," I muttered, shaking my head.

A growl sounded above me and automatically I flinched.

I continued to shaky my head back-and-forth, hoping the drastic movements would keep the budding tears from spilling over. This wasn't the kind of day I had been hopping for. Initially Dr. Kelso, in an oddly kind state of mind, gave me three weeks off to recuperate, but I didn't want to stay away from the hospital. You see, being at home would mean having nothing to do but watch old reruns of shows from the 70's and 80's, but, when those shows weren't on or when they were having commercials, it would mean I'd have time to think. Almost everybody knows what my relationship with thinking is. I think too much. Thinking means having to remember…remember…

I don't want to remember.

Coming into work is easier than mulling it over at home. When I come here to Sacred Heart I can bury myself into an amount of charts that would kill any common intern or resident. It shouldn't be a problem getting people to fork over their patients; frankly, I think, I'd be doing some people a favor with getting that load off their minds. Don't get me wrong, I love my job and I wouldn't trade it for anything in the world, but sometimes, as a doctor, I can feel overloaded with work. Therefore taking patients from my coworkers is a good thing. It works purely both ways. I want to be buried and other people don't want to be buried.

So, with four days off under my belt, I called Dr. Kelso's office, thankfully he picked up the phone and not Ted or his secretary, and told him I'd be coming in today instead. He didn't ask questions, I knew he wouldn't be one to get involved, but instead told me to get into work and not be late or it'll be my ass.

"Newbie," Dr. Cox growled. "Would you snap the hell out of it?"

Oh, shit. I zoned out in front of Dr. Cox. That would definitely be a no-no.

Shooting out my shaky arms, I grab at the tissue box at the nurse's station and begin to wipe off the stains of brown lining the papers that had spilled from his arms. Trying not to look as nervous as I feel I give a shaky laugh and say, "I'm such a klutz…" but this only makes me feel like some teenaged boy who just hit puberty. I can't get my voice to stop shaking.

Suddenly Dr. Cox kneels down in front of me and fixes me with a hard stare. I'm still looking down at the ground though, I can feel the disappointed glare he's shooting me and I don't want to meet it. He saw me at a vulnerable state; I bet he looks at me differently now.

"Look, _Meredith_, my patience is wearing extra thin right now and I don't…" he trails off and growls for a third time. "Goddamn it, would you look at me when I'm talking to you!" He grabs my chin and forces my eyes to look into his.

I feel like such a kid.

I blink slowly, savoring the moment of sweet darkness when I don't have to look into the cold brown eyes of the doctor I'd been practically kissing the feet of since I'd first started. When I open my eyes though I see something I don't think I really expected to see. Sorrow? Maybe. Disappointment? Lacking, but I definitely feel the vibes around me.

Shit. He's talking again. Was I even listening?

"You shouldn't be here…" He shakes his head now and runs a hand through his hair. "Damn it, I'm going to kill Kelso-"

"No!" My voice squeaks and momentarily I shrink back as Dr. Cox's gaze turns on me. I gulp down whatever is clogging up my throat. "I asked to come back, Dr. Cox. It doesn't have anything to do with Dr. Kelso. Please… I just need to work."

The Dr. Cox conscious on my shoulder seems to say "What a sissy" but the real Dr. Cox stares at me, hard.

"Don't screw up today, Newbie."

I nod. I'm still on my knees feeling about 3 inches tall.

Dr. Cox immediately grabs the stack of brown-stained papers and clipboards and groans as he stands up. I pull myself up to a wavering standing position and am just about to leave when Dr. Cox places his hand on my shoulder and looks down at me with soft eyes.

"JD," Oh, God, he called me JD. "The sooner you deal with what happened, the better you'll be and the quicker you'll get back into your regular, annoying routine." I nod. "But," he continues, "don't think I won't be watching you like a hawk. I'll be here."

The length of his words doesn't hit me until he walks away. He tried to be supportive, anybody could see that, but _how_ supportive was he talking about? When he dropped the charts I think I saw my name on one of them…

Of course he'd take some of my patients. Damn it.

XXXXXXXX

XXXXXXXX

Somebody clears their throat; I look up from my half-sitting position, on the floor, behind the nurse's station, and blink confusedly at the blurry image before me. Heaving out a deep breath of air, I slowly push my sore back up from my backrest of the nurse's desk and make my way into a descent standing position. After a while of wringing cricks from my back, I decided this isn't working and instead settle to place my head in my hands as I lean onto the desktop. My eyes waver on Carla's form.

She blinks. "What were you doing back there?"

Clearing my throat, I said, "I was looking for my charts."

"While sitting on the floor?"

I frown and massage the back of my neck gingerly. "Guess I blanked out there for a minute." I laugh nervously, hoping to bring some light humor into the situation, but Carla just looks even more worried than she was before. Seems like I can't do anything right today. "I'm just tired," I claim. "I was catching my breath or whatever…"

Carla regards me wearily.

"Dr. Cox took all of my charts." I shrink in stature once again. I really don't want to run into Dr. Cox again and meet some sort of tense silence and/or staring competition that ends with me nearly peeing my pants from nervousness and thus getting nowhere in a painfully too long conversation. "I'm looking for something…_productive _to do. Have any ideas?"

"No, Bambi, I sure don't." Carla frowns and moves to pat my shoulder comfortingly. She either doesn't notice the flinch or ignores it completely because she continues on and suggests, "Maybe you can catch up on all of your paperwork? That should keep you occupied for a few hours."

I nodded. "Yeah, that's a good idea." She smiles. I love Carla's smile. "Thanks Carla."

"No problem, Bambi."

Grabbing as many charts as I can into my hands, I give a small wave towards Carla before turning away to look for somewhere to do all of my paperwork, but, before I can make even ten steps forward, I run into the Janitor. He raises a brow at me and holds his broom like a shield. This makes me nervous: here I am with an armful of charts and no way to defend myself.

However, Janitor just nods his head curtly and steps to the side, clearing the way. I look up to him with my own eyebrow raised and he nods his head again. The broom in his hand doesn't look like it's going to whip out and trip me as soon as I turn my back; so, cautiously, I take a few steps forward. Seeing as nothing comes behind me and the Janitor doesn't laugh evilly into my ear, I continue on.

Moving back to the task at hand, I decide not to head into the doctor's lounge, the place where I usually sit to fill out my paper work, and walk the length of the hallway, looking for an _empty_ on-call room. I really don't want to be sitting somewhere with some weirdo resident and/or intern giving me suspicious looks, I can't concentrate like that.

"Someone's in here!" I hear somebody yell as my hand touches the doorknob. There's a scuffle, a groan, and a load curse of, "Damn! Shit…um, hang on a second!"

I'm tempted to move away, and quickly, but the familiar voice draws me back.

The door opens and I'm face-to-face with a wide-eyed Elliot and a disheveled looking Keith.

"Dr. Dorian, sir!"

Keith drops the drawstrings of his scrubs pants as if they were on fire and immediately stands at attention, his hand half-raised in a sort of salute. I would've laughed if it was any other day and I was in any other mood, but, instead, I just lower my stack of charts and stare. He flinches under my gaze and I feel I've done Dr. Cox proud.

"Um…" Elliot blows out a puff of air that separates her blond bangs from her face. "Keith," she says suddenly, turning her back on me, "I need you to do the lab workup on Mr. Myer like I discussed!"

"…discussed?" Keith seems uncertain. "Elliot, I thought we were talking about making-"

"_Keith!_" I flinch at Elliot's high-pitched squeal. "_Now_!"

Keith opens his mouth in a sort of "O" shape and, when Elliot clicks her tongue, he leans over and gives her a peck on the cheek. His head moves back towards me and he raises one hand in a semi-wave before rushing off down the hallway and around the corner.

"Awww," Elliot sighs, "that man of mine…"

I nod, shifting the load in my hand uncomfortably. Suddenly I wish I just continued on when I heard Elliot's voice before; then I wouldn't have to be in this situation. She wrings her hand nervously and continues to attempt to blow her bangs away from her face. I just stare. Finally, she just brings her hand out and tucks her hair behind her ears.

"Did you slip out before I got up this morning? I didn't even see you sign in-"

"Yeah." My voice cracks slightly so I clear my throat. "Um… I got up around 6 a.m. and didn't want to wake you."

"Did you walk?" Elliot questions. "I know your scooter's still in the shop."

I gulp at the memory. "Yeah, it was no big deal."

"Why didn't you tell me you were coming in?" She looks hurt. I hate that. I _did_ that. "I was hoping to get to talk to you tonight. We haven't seen each other much between me being at work and with Keith and you…" She shrugged. "You being in your room all day… Maybe we can still do that, though? Talk, I mean?"

With plans to avoid Elliot tonight and tomorrow morning already cooking in my mind, I easily say, "Sure."

"Really? Cool! Well…okay, I guess I'll see you later then, I've got lots of work to do." A big Elliot-sized grin plasters her face and she stands on the tip of her toes to reach my cheek to give me a small kiss. She lingers there for just a minute to whisper in my ear, "Take it easy, JD. Seriously."

My eyes open, I hadn't realized they closed, and I pull away from Elliot's hug. For a second I'm ashamed of myself for having ideas of avoiding Elliot. After all, all Elliot wanted to do was help me.

God, what kind of friend am I?

_The disturbed kind._

Elliot stalks away in her odd fast-walk and turns down the hallway in the same fashion Keith had done before her. I watch her and listened to the tiny click, clack of her heels as she leaves my sight.

My eyes closed and opened again slowly before I quickly ducked into the on-call room. I sighed contently and flopped down exhaustedly on the stiff bed across from the brown oak desk, where I was finally able to unload the pile of charts from my arms. Hissing softly as I rolled up my long sleeves, from the sweatshirt I wore under my usual dark blue scrubs, I undid the white bandages on my arm and checked the cut that trailed across my shoulder. It didn't look infected but it was a bit irritated, and it hurt like hell. I made a mental note to grab some Tylenol.

After I placed my sleeve back into its rightful place, I stood up from the bed and scooted the short distance towards the chair near the desk. I pulled the silver chain of the tiny desk lamp and squinted as the light hit my face. Grabbing the first clipboard, I pulled a pen from my breast pocket and got set into reading and writing.

XXXXXXXX

XXXXXXXX

A rugged hand takes my shoulder and grips it hard, shaking me slightly, pulling me away from the uncomfortable darkness I had fallen into. My arms flail slightly at first but a spasm of pain rips through my shoulder and travels down my arm, causing me to sink underneath the throbbing. The hand that had been on my shoulder travels down suddenly and pins my arms to my side.

"JD"

My eyes bolt open suddenly and the fear that had been engulfing my entire body suddenly leaves me in one swift motion as I spot the concerned eyes of Turk waver above me uncertainly. When he sees me awake and alert he lets go of my arms and brings his hands back towards his own side. He gives me a small smile and, as the mattress shifted, he settles down near my side and grins slightly, trying not to make me more embarrassed than I already am.

"Hey, buddy. Carla told me you were in here doing _some_ charts." He scoffed as he gestured with his eyes towards the pile of charts that were stacked on the oak desk to our side. "You all done?"

I cleared my throat, but to no avail, "Y-yeah." I coughed.

Turk frowned. "Better not be sick, man. Carla and Elliot'll have my head."

Smiling, I said, "What time is it?"

"It's lunch time, I was wondering if you wanted to hit the café with me and the girls."

My stomach growled, but I didn't know if I could really keep anything down.

"It's Chili Day, dude! Come on!" Turk seems to have read my mind.

I finally nodded my head. "Sure. I'll meet you down there in a few minutes, all right? I just gotta put up these charts and check something out." I hated lying to Turk, but I didn't want him worrying about me. You see, over the few seconds that had past between our conversation, my vision had suddenly become blurry and a wave of nausea hit me. I was doing all I could to not cough again.

"You sure, man? I can wait for you."

"Yeah. Go ahead."

He looks at me for a few more seconds before nodding. "All right."

Turk was never really good with expressing his feelings, but I knew he meant well as soon as his hand squeezed my shoulder. It was a simple gesture like that and I could read him like an open book.

He was worried. Simple as that.

I watched Turk leave and close the door, the room succumbing to the impending darkness. I sat up slowly. My eyes glazed slightly as I unsteadily pushed my legs over the side of the mattress and placed my hands on my knees. Unlike before, the darkness was welcoming, as I felt the slight thump above my left eye grow steadily. I shook my head and raised slightly, wavering slightly before catching my balance.

Suddenly the light flicked on.

"Newbie"

My back to Dr. Cox, I cringed. Lucky for me, though, my vision cleared and I stood straighter.

"I was… M-My charts," I stammered, scratching the back of my neck nervously. "I was just getting my charts."

I turned and faced his gaze, flinching unconsciously.

"Take your break, Newbie." He blinked slowly and shook his head. "You can take this patient," he held out a chart, not entirely in my reach, "right after you get a descent meal."

"Yeah." I nodded gratefully. "I'll do that."

He raised a brow. "Get a _descent meal, _Newbie, I mean that."

I nodded as I gathered the charts in my hand. "Carla won't see it any other way."

Dr. Cox let me pass. I still felt his gaze on my back as I walked away.

Lucky for me, after riding the elevator for a few seconds, I was able to burn off the nausea in my stomach and gulp down the odd taste of bile that had nearly climbed up my throat. When I entered the cafeteria then, as all the aromas of different food (maybe not all of it being food) substances hit me, I didn't have the sudden urge to run away. I ducked into line–able to avoid the Todd as he exited the cafeteria–and ordered a bowl of chili. Elliot spotted me in line and waved me over enthusiastically.

Keith was nowhere in sight.

"He and Ted ran off somewhere, something about testing something," Elliot explained to me as I sat across from her and Carla, taking the only other empty seat next to Turk. I hadn't really asked though, so it weirded me out a bit. Though, not as much as the thought of Keith and Ted going somewhere together.

"You all right, Bambi?" Carla questioned in her best mother-hen voice. "You don't look so good. Are you sick?" She reaches over and makes to touch my forehead, but I quickly duck my head out of the way just in time. At this, she tsk's disapprovingly.

Turk frowns. "Baby, leave him alone. He doesn't need you to get all mother-hen on his ass."

Best friends think alike.

"I'm fine. Honestly." I dig out a spoonful of chili and dunk it into my both. "See?"

Carla gives me her best "don't get smart with me" stare and frowns.

Conversation starts slowly at first, I think it was mostly because of my presence, but quickly it moves faster until the normal routine picks up. Though, it doesn't seem normal, actually. I feel left out of the conversation, if anything.

"Sohetellsmeitwasn'thisfault–" Elliot screeches, throwing her hands in the air. "Hewon'tevenlistentome!"

"Come on, Elliot." Carla says, "Stand up for yourself!"

Turk frowns. He gulps down his chili. "You ever think Keith is the victim in all this?"

Two pairs of eyes turn on him and Turk flinches back.

"Sorry!"

Carla and Elliot turn back to each other and continue on their Keith-related conversation, leaving Turk to turn to me.

"So…" he says, gulping down another bite of chili, "you gunna eat, or what?"

I look down at my half-eaten wrapper of crackers, full bowl of chili, and blueberry muffin and shrug. "If I want to see at least one patient today I guess I'm gunna have to."

Turk raises a brow. "Cox blackmailing you?"

"Sorta."

"Well…" his eyes float towards my muffin. "You gunna eat _that_?"

"Have at it."

Turk gulps the muffin down before I can even finish the sentence.

Picking up my spoon cautiously, I take a stab at the reddish substance before me before taking a small gulp of it. Cold. Cold chili always tasted weird. Turk must've noticed because he scrunched his nose up and shot me a disgusted look.

"Man, you waited too long. Now it's bad."

I took another bite of it. "No problem."

"You brave soul."

Zoning out of the conversations between my three friends I slowly continue the trek to finish my chili, every so often nibbling at my crackers and sipping the bottle of water I had picked up before. Nobody seems to mind that I've dislodged myself from the social activity going on because they don't question me or ask why I am eating so slowly. I swore I saw Elliot sneaking my worried glance though, but I'm pretty sure Carla was kicking her under the table in order to keep her from asking questions. I know because Carla accidentally kicked _me_ a few times.

"Rhonda."

I looked up, the conversations around me stopping, and found Dr. Cox staring at me. He ignored the oddly-shaped glare Turk was giving him and inspected my now-empty chili bowl from a distance. He nodded and tossed a chart into my lap.

"Better get on it," he told me before swiftly walking away.

"Was that a chart?" Elliot questioned. "Is it important?"

I flipped through the chart and frowned.

"What's wrong?" Turk leaned over my shoulder and I watched his face fall. "Man, this is your first patient?"

I nodded my head. "First and only of the day." I shut the chart and massaged my head. "Figures."

Elliot and Carla still looked clueless.

"Hangnail," I muttered, shuddering. "Goddamn it."

Still, I wasn't sure about this. Was I happy or sad that Dr. Cox gave me a faulty patient?

I honestly don't think I could handle a full-blown, troubled patient right now.

XXXXXXXX

XXXXXXXX

Somewhere, between the void of nothing to do and the nail-biting remarks from my hangnail patient, I had made it towards the hospital's wheelchair ramp just outside the building. I took a seat on the cold railing and leaned carefully foreword, placing my hands on my knees, and stared out into the dark abyss of the parking lot. I breathed and watched the air as a puff of my oxygen appeared and disappeared from a ball of smoke. My mind wandered from reality.

Honestly, to all the truth, I hadn't really expected the day to go much different than it did today. It figured that Dr. Cox would talk my patients away from me and it figured everybody would be walking on eggshells around me. Dr. Kelso must've figured it would've gone like this too; he probably called Dr. Cox and told him I was coming. That's the whole reason I came back. If Dr. Cox didn't agree to take up the load, I wouldn't have been able to come.

This, of course, just makes me become a burden to everybody here.

It's true, as much as I hate to admit it. Dr. Cox was running around trying to intercept all my interns' calls, Elliot was probably juggling the half of my patients that Dr. Cox hadn't grabbed, Turk was my humor buddy, and Carla was trying to keep me so busy with nothing that I wouldn't be able to figure out what they were doing.

Oh, yeah. That worked real well.

"Newbie." Dr. Cox. That figured. "I knew I'd find you here."

I don't look at him; I just continue to stare into the parking lot.

"Where the hell's your jacket?"

I shiver involuntarily. "In my locker. I forgot it."

Dr. Cox growls "Get inside. You're shivering."

"Yeah." I nod and turn slightly. Dr. Cox is leaving already, making a quick exit as always. "Do you think it's too early?"

Shit. Curse my uncontrollable tongue.

Dr. Cox turns to me suddenly and stares at me, hard.

"If I'm going to fill out charts the whole day, avoid every single trauma so I don't waste people's time to throw me out of the room…" I look down in shame and shrug uselessly. "What's the point? When I'm not here it'll be better for everyone-"

"No." Dr. Cox's steely voice causes me to look up. His eyes center on me. "Newbie, it wouldn't be better. What happened…? What you went through…" He shakes his head and frowns. "Nobody expects you to just bounce back from that as the same jittery, happy-go-lucky intern you were before. Things take time…"

I frown. "I'm not ready."

"Maybe not yet." Dr. Cox walks towards me and stops when he's directly in front of me. "You will be though."

"How do you know?"

"I know you."

Still, even though Dr. Cox's words put a smile on my face, I couldn't help but be worried.


	2. My Long Night

**My Long Night**

My head bangs against the ½ wall before dropping down to my knees, which I have folded up close to my chest. My eyes are burning, my lungs are burning, I'm wheezing, I'm gasping, I'm coughing. Everything suddenly feels so out of control that I can't even get a handle on what's what. It's almost like some sort of out-of-body, out-of-mind, asthma, heart attack that turns my inside to mush and strikes my body mercilessly. The thumping pain I have in my head is slowly traveling down my neck, through my arms, chest, hip, legs, feet, and back up again until it's pulling me apart so much that I can no longer stand it–

"Ahem"

Cleared throat! Cleared throat!

My head snaps up before I can check my face for tears, and suddenly I find myself face-to-face with Dr. Cox. Why _Dr. Cox_ of all people? Why _always _Dr. Cox? He's looking at me like I'm growing five heads from the place where the sun don't shine. Slowly, he crosses his arms across his chest in such an aggravated manner that it makes me feel like a small child who's about to be punished. Of course, that's not so hard to imagine considering I'm all but wrapped up in fetal position, leaning against the ½ wall of the roof with all my deteriorating strength.

This must look suspicious to him. What time is it? It couldn't have been that long ago since he left me in the parking lot after answering his pager about some coding patient down in the ICU, running back into the hospital and threatening life and death not to follow him. My shift was over in a few minutes anyway, it probably would've been a good idea to clock out and leave before… Heck, I still didn't have any patients so I guess it wouldn't have mattered. I heard my interns gossiping with the others, saying something about being ordered not to page me or bother me, no matter what. Considering I knew Carla didn't have control over that, Elliot isn't good at threatening people, Turk isn't even in that department, and Dr. Kelso would never do that for me… I can only assume it to be Dr. Cox's work again.

Am I zoning out again? Oh, well, at least I'm not daydreaming about him picking me up and snatching me to my feet like some heavyweight champion while the Todd waits behind him to be tagged for a double team and they both come at me…banana hammocks and. Geezus. Think of the massacre.

Actually, thinking about it now, I haven't had a "JD Daydream" since the week before. Back when everything was normal. I mean, sure, I've been zoning out and talking to myself about things like I always do, but I never go to that _someplace special _like I used to. Daydreaming about Dr. Diagnoses, Head and Body, and my wacky Luke Skywalker, Incredible Hulk, and Frankenstein JD figures that I've designed right on the spot. That would be, in turn, probably why I haven't written any Dr. Acula scenes in a while.

I guess there are two different kinds of spacing out: My way and the _crazy_ way.

Though…some would argue that it's the same thing…

A sharp whistle causes my glazed eyes to clear and my mouth to elicit a small squeak. I hate how vulnerable I've become. No… I hate how I've finally _realized _how vulnerable I really am. I've always been vulnerable; I just never knew it until now. Dr. Cox kicks my foot and once again I'm shot out of my head. Muttering a small apology, I scoot back from his piercing gaze and hit the ½ wall, my head bouncing off the brick, making me wince in pain. I look up, squinting, and see Dr. Cox wince too. Did I really hit my head that hard or am I just deluding myself?

"Where in the hell have you been?" he questioned. "Were you up here for the past two hours?"

Oh, God… Two hours? Two _whole _hours? He _must_ think I'm nuts.

Another whistle.

Shit! That's loud!

"_Hello! _Anybody home?" I look up, still in my ½ wince position of my head ducked low. "Yes! Yes, I'm talking to you Clarabelle!"

"I've been up here for two hours?" I say aloud before I can stop myself.

That's it! I'm duped! The look he's giving me writes a whole new definition to the _weird _look. His eyes narrow dangerously low and I think I spot him double-touching his nose–a clear cut sign of his anger–as he clenches his hands tightly and shoves them into the pockets of his white coat. Veins are popping out of his neck–Oh, God! I've awakened _it!_

"Only _you _would know where _you've _been for the past _two hours_."

His teeth are clenched and visibly grinding against each other. He's holding all sorts of anger back, but I think that's what makes me even more afraid: Knowing that anger is on the horizon but won't be released unless…unless. Unless something? I'm not sure what that something is and I'm not sure I want to know. Better not to tempt him now, so I nod numbly, my eyes feeling as wide as saucers.

"I think–No!" I shake my head, suddenly very nervous. "I _have_ been here for the past two hours."

"Goddamn it, Newbie!"

He throws his arms up into the air and I laugh nervously.

"I…I guess I didn't keep good track of time."

In three long strides he stalks up to me and points a finger angrily in my face. "Your shift is over, get your ass downstairs and get a ride with Gandhi. He's been annoying the _hell_ out of _me_ and everybody else looking for _you_ for two _damned _hours."

"Well, I…" I lick my chapped lips and frown. "Two hours and nobody thought of the roof?"

Shut up, you idiot! You know exactly why he didn't check the roof!

The roof is the _last place _anybody would ever check…now…

"What the _hell _are you doing up here?" He questions. "Of all places…"

"I…I don't know." The words come slowly, barely even registering in my own brain. "My feet moved and I came here."

I watch him gnaw on his lip and shake his head continuously, muttering a string of curses under his breath before finally swinging around and grabbing the upper part of my arm, pulling me into a standing position. My legs wobble uncertainly but Dr. Cox is there to steady me, though he's not as patient as I hoped he would be and right near shakes the entire life out of me. Animated stars bounce around in my head and my stomach lurches violently. Before I can even argue for him to let go of me, if I even had the courage, he's pulling me off the roof and down the stairs.

He's talking still, but I can't manage to register word or mouth movement. Something about "stupid kid", "knew it", "too soon", and "shouldn't be on the roof". I hear enough that I can piece the phrases together, but it's too late for me to listen to any of it because we're nearly out of the stairwell and my brain quickly begins to function. My feet suddenly dig into the ground and I rip my arm from Dr. Cox's iron grip, stunning him.

"I-I'm fine–" The shakiness in my voice is killing my argument so I clear my throat and try again. "I'm fine."

He looks at me. He knows I'm lying. He can read me like an open book.

This is, of course, a good thing because it seems that he also knows _why _I'm lying, so he nods and heads out the door, expecting me to follow. After I take a few breaths, and after I hear the trademark Cox growl, I exit the stairwell with a new bout of confidence that doesn't seem to fit the heart I'm currently wearing underneath my sleeve. A few people catch me tagging behind Dr. Cox, who's still growling angrily, and shoot me sympathetic looks. Right now, I'm fine with the sympathetic looks, because what I really wanted to avoid was people coming up to me, acting like they cared.

I guess that's one good thing when you're with Dr. Cox, especially when he's angry, but I never noticed it before. People generally leave you alone.

Of course, there are a few exceptions:

"Ahhhh, Dr. Dorian!"

I freeze as Dr. Kelso pops in between Dr. Cox and me and breathe in a deep sigh when I notice that Dr. Cox has also stopped walking. He touches his nose and turns around to glare daggers in Dr. Kelso's back. Having his back to him, Dr. Kelso notices none of this–though, I don't think he'd care either way–and smiles his jolly/freaky smile. Lurking in the shadows, trying to go unnoticed, I spot Ted. He's putting his hand to his chest and making like he's throwing something out at me as he mouths…

What?

Boing Fwip?

"How was your first day back, sport? Not too shabby, was it? We can't have you youngsters pulling a fast one on us. You know…coming back to work to early, not ready to handle the environment, which, in turn, causes you to _screw something up_." His grin wipes clear off his face and he growls, "If a damned patient finds that out, they'll hit us with a lawsuit so big that it'll knock you, me, and just about everybody else in this hellhole out of a job."

Oh…God…

"Anyway…" He pats me on the back. "That won't happen, will it, sport?"

Gulping down the breath I hadn't realized I was holding, I slowly nod my head.

"Well… Have a good one." Dr. Kelso nods and smiles before walking off and yelling, "Ted!"

"Come on, Clarabelle." Dr. Cox grabs the scruff of my shirt and pushes me towards the exit.

"Wait," I say, grounding my feet again. "What about my stuff?"

Dr. Cox says nothing as he continues to push me out the hospital, easily acting as if we'd explode if we stayed any longer. Soon, though, I'm outside and a rush of cold winter air brushes against my sensitive skin, goosebumps easily forming on my exposed arms. Instinctively, I wrap my arms around myself and stop midway down the wheelchair ramp to wrap my arms around myself and shiver. This time Dr. Cox stops and gives me a moment, turning slightly to lean against the cold railing.

"You can get more days off to recuperate, Newbie."

What? Well…okay… His statement catches me off guard.

"Well, Dr. Kelso–"

"I can handle Kelso."

"I know. What I mean is, Dr. Kelso would probably give me three months off if I asked him." I laugh at this. I'm not sure why, I guess I just find it funny how true it is, even for Kelso. "I wouldn't take that off though. Like I told you: I just need to work…" My head shakes and I laugh again. "Not that _this _was working."

Productive Day: Paperwork (Check!). Sleep in an empty on call room (Check!). More Paperwork (Check!). Attend Hangnail patient (Check!). Zone out on roof (Check!).

"You know," Dr. Cox scoffs and looks up to look out into the dark abyss of the hospital parking lot, "burying yourself into work isn't going to make anything go away."

"I don't expect it to."

He looks at me.

"What _do_ you expect?"

Heh… That's the real question, isn't it?

Maybe I want time to rewind so everything can go back to normal. Maybe I want everybody to stop treating me like glass. Maybe I want people to look at me the same way. Maybe I want to stop remembering. Maybe I want…

Maybe…

"I don't know what I want."

"Yeah." Dr. Cox nods his head and pushes himself off the rail. "But, on the other hand Newbie, does anybody really know what they want?"

Good point. I shake my head.

"Yeah… Didn't think so."

He grabs me again, this time more gently by my upper arm, and gently leads me down the ramp towards the near-empty row of cars situated in front of us. Turk is standing in front of his and Carla's new car. When we get close enough Turk holds out my jacket to me and I put it on gratefully.

"Come on, man." Turks says. "Let's go home."

I nod and turn around.

"Dr. Cox–"

He's gone.

What the…? Where'd he go?

I look into the dark abyss and scan the area for any sign of my disgruntled mentor. Turk looks just as confused but says nothing and gently gestures me into the passenger's seat. Flopping down and shutting the door, still mystified, I spot my bag.

"You went into my locker?"

"Cox did." Turk looks behind him and slowly pulls out. "We were looking for you when Cox told us you didn't send by the hangnail patient. Scared the hell outta me, man. Cox went on a damned rampage–"

"What? He said _you_ were annoying _him _looking for me."

"Well…yeah, I was, I guess. He figured out you were missing first though."

"I wasn't missing."

"No?"

"No."

"Fine. Where were you?"

I freeze. Shit! Not where I wanted the conversation to turn.

"T-the roof, actually."

I catch his glance and sink into my seat.

"Oh…"

Way to ruin the moment! Goddamn, I'm such an idiot! Now Turk's incredibly uncomfortable and so am I.

The rest of the ride to mine and Elliot's apartment passes slowly. Unfortunately for us, in such a horrible predicament, we stop behind at least three excruciatingly long red lights. Heck, maybe they aren't that long though. I can't really tell anymore. Time is slowing suddenly. I can't wait to get out of this car. You can cut the tension with a knife!

Awesome. It's gotten so bad that being with my _best friend _is actually _stressful!_

Surprisingly, this makes me laugh.

O…k… I really hope I didn't do that out loud. What is that look? Turk's eyes are about bugging out of his head about now. Double shit! I did laugh out loud! Oh, well, at least he doesn't say anything about it.

Wait! What is that…? Yes! Apartment! Home free!

"Hey." Turk finally says, breaking the silence as I move to open my door. I turn briefly and find his concerned eyes on me. "Elliot's a bit worried too, you should know."

"Is she home?"

I really do not want to have that conversation with her.

"Nah. Kelso slapped her with a double shift. She'll be off in an hour or two."

"Oh…"

"Yeah, well, we told her we couldn't find you, so if she comes home all freaked out and all… Elliot-like…than that's why. Okay?"

"Sure. Thanks for the heads up."

"No problem, man." He looks uncomfortable. "Vanilla Bear?"

"Yeah, Chocolate Bear?"

"You…You gunna be all right?"

Oh… Well, that was… Unexpected. Had anybody asked me that yet?

I mean, sure, Carla asked me during lunch when she was in her mother-hen mode, but she mostly just thought I had a fever.

Am I, though? Am I "all right"?

No.

"I'm fine."

I hate lying to Turk.

He says something else; I'm not really paying attention, and soon I'm watching his car drive off into the distance. I stayed there for a few minutes, just look out into the darkness freezing my butt off. I'm not sure when I finally went inside.

It was relatively empty without Elliot there. It felt deserted.

_Beep. You have five new messages._

_Beep. Beep._

"_He, little brother!" _Old message. Sounds like he's at a diner. _"I just got done with this gig for a guy at the bar I work at and he got me nearly a grand! Mom made me buy her a few rounds of lottery tickets and a few scratch offs but, other than that, I'm pretty well done for now. I'm thinking of taking this other job to drive cross country and get some more money so I might be stopping by. Not sure when, but I'll let you know!"_

_Beep._

"_John Dorian? Doctor John Dorian?" _How official. _"This is Shawn Sutter from Time Daily with a few questions for you about–"_

_Delete._

_Beep._

"_JD!"_ Elliot. Probably from today like Turk was telling me about. _"JD! Come on, pick up!"_

_Beep._

"_JD! Are you there? Please…? Frick! Come on, JD! Pick up the phone!"_

_Beep._

"_JD… JD, listen, I just want to make sure you're all right. Dr. Cox is running around here like he's going to kill somebody and Turk's out of his mind! Just answer the phone JD. Let me know you got home. "_

_Beep. End of messages._

Shit…

What'd I do? I was only gone two hours. What happens in two hours?

Idiot! I'm a doctor. A lot can happen in two hours.

Heck, a lot can happen in two _seconds_.

Elliot's panic attack? Dr. Cox's rampage? Turk out of his mind?

They're all worried…I did that…

_Me_.

Is it possible to feel worse than this? I nearly broke down in front of my mentor when I zoned out in front of him and had him drag me out of the hospital! I got into a pep talk with Dr. Kelso! I lied to my best friend! And now I've made another friend cry?!

I did hear that correctly. Elliot's voice gets all high, ramble-y and quick when she's upset about something really serious.

Numbly my legs move to the bedroom. Vaguely I feel myself picking up my noodle-like arms and shrug off my jacket, but everything else stays on as I flop onto my bed. I wrap myself into the tightest fetal position I can, on top of the covers, and bury my face in my pillow. My shoulder is killing me. I should probably change the bandage. This headache too…It's the headache of a century.

Pain is just pounding through me.

How long have I been lying here, all vulnerable and hurting, too weak to even move? Sobs bury deep within my chest and tears build in the corners of my eyes, but I fight the emotions down and struggle to find sleep.

Of course, nothing comes.

I end up tossing and turning the entire night before I hear the click of the door and the clack of heels on the wood floor.

Elliot was home.

My eyes screw shut as I hear her kick her heels off and drop her bag to the floor. Her feet pads softly against the floor but I hear her enough to know that she's coming into my room.

Shoot! Cold Hands! Don't move!

"JD?" She pats my hair down. "I've got dinner if you're still up? Chicken parmesan…?"

_Ring! Ring! Ring!_

The phone! Good distraction.

As she walks away I can hear her shushing the phone. I turn slightly, hoping to catch her end of the conversation.

"Hello? No, I just got home… Yeah, he's sleeping. Yes– Well, I don't think he ate–What…? No! He had lunch. I saw him! Uh-huh… Look…No. Well, yeah… Okay? Yeah. I'll see you tomorrow."

Whoops! Squeeze eyes again! She's coming back.

Before I can brace myself, I feel the mattress sink as she climbs onto the bed with me. Her hands run through my hair and her soft voice whispers sweet nothing into my ears before she settles down. Her chest presses comfortingly against my back and she draws her arms around my body in a sort-of hug.

It takes all my will not to tremble from the physical touch I felt I didn't deserve.


	3. My Fatigued Pain

**My Fatigued Pain**

"Dan?"

It's surprising how steady my voice can be in this situation. I think it's a little brother thing, to be honest. It's our code: Don't look or sound weak in front of your sibling–especially an older brother–no matter the consequences nor no matter what happened. Maybe that's why Dan and mine's relationship was so strained when we were kids. I guess I tried too hard to be his other half, always following him and mimicking his movements and words. At times I think he enjoyed that. Once we got into junior high, however, and I still hadn't kicked the habit, he'd been more annoyed than flattered. In truth, all I really wanted was a father-figure. Since Dad left and Mom dated every single living man within her radius, I felt as if I was missing out on the one thing that made me different than the other kids. Dan was the only constant male in my life, so I clung to him. Maybe even more than I should have…

I sighed, speaking again, "Are you busy?"

"_Jeezus_ Johnny. Do you know what time it is?"

Dan's voice is obscured through some sort of static noise and a garbled mix of yelling. I can hear the television, or radio, going in the background, but soon that goes down to a deaf mute. I'm pretty sure he's at some stupid party. By voice he's trying to make me feel guilty for calling him at nearly 5 a.m. but he's got me wrong there, I'm guilty for having to call him period.

See, after I was lulled to sleep by Elliot's comforting mumblings in my ear, I woke up nearly an hour or two later than I was originally supposed to. In the middle of the night, I think, Elliot had gone to her own room, so it was easy to get up without waking her. Elliot will probably give me hell today, if I can't dodge her, but right now it doesn't seem too bad. I took a shower and ate half a piece of bread before taking off, not really knowing nor caring what my destination.

So I'm not sure how I got here. Here to the very last place I want to be.

Outside Sacred Heart, near the abandoned right wing.

I stood in the wet grass, fingers curled in the chain-link fence in front of me, as my head tilted forward and my eyes glance calmly at the old wing in front of me, my other hand holding my flip phone to my ear. I'm not sure how long I've been standing here before I decided to call Dan, maybe an hour, maybe less, most likely more.

"Johnny! Damn!"

Shit… Is that me? Dan doesn't usually yell for me.

"Y-yeah?"

"What the hell, Johnny? What's _wrong_ with you?"

Have I been found out? Does he know? Did I tell him? I didn't! Did I? Can you tell someone something when you're zoned out?

Jeez, just _calm down_! Breathe!

"W-wrong? What'd you mean?"

Calm and steady. Steady and calm.

"_Jeezus_, Johnny," he repeats. "What happened? You sound like your having an asthma attack."

Asthma attack…? I don't have asthma.

Oh! Duh! Breathe!

In. Out. In. Out. In. Out. In. Out. In. Out. In. Out. In. Out. In. Out. In. Out. In. Out. In. Out. In. Out. In. Out. In. Out. In. Out. In. Out. In. Out. In. Out. In. Out. In. Out. In. Out. In. Out. In. Out. In. Out. In. Out. In. Out. In. Out. In. Out. In. Out. In. Out. In. Out. In. Out. In. Out. In. Out. In. Out. In. Out. In. Out. In. Out. In. Out. In. Out. In. Out. In. Out. In. Out. In. Out. In. Out. In. Out. In. Out. In. Out. In. Out. In. Out. In. Out. In. Out. In. Out. In. Out. In. Out. In. Out. In. Out. In. Out. In. Out. In. Out. In. Out. In. Out. In. Out. In. Out. In. Out. In. Out. In. Out. In. Out. In. Out. In. Out. In. Out. In. Out. In. Out. In. Out.

"No. I'm fine."

"Where are you? In water?"

"I-I'm just outside."

"At 5 a.m.? That's pretty idiotic, even for you Johnny."

"I just needed to talk to you."

"_Johnny_. I'm busy."

"I just… I need to talk to you." I continue before he can interrupt me, "Please? It's _really important._"

I sigh and turn to lean my back against the fence. A hand comes up and massages my aching temple.

I sound pathetic.

Dan pauses.

Do I sound so desperate that even Dan understands my pain?

"Hold on, little brother."

Dan was gone before I could even answer and soon nothing but static fizzing in my ear keeps me company as I waited impatiently. Tilting my head toward the sky, taking a deep breath and exhaling slowly, I struggled to calm my racing mind. Right now I just really needed to figure out what to say. I'm sure he hasn't heard about my escapade, considering it's most likely only been on the local news here–not that Dan ever watches the news. Besides, he would've understood my "gasping fish" moment if he knew what was going on.

Maybe I should tell him though…but…I don't want to make the same mistake twice.

I mean, I had called him before because I was in love with a girl who was in love with someone else and we ended up almost exploding our whole relationship. Then I proved to him that I was ashamed of what he did and believed he could do better. Which, by the way, I still do. Still, I guess Dan can be underestimated; he did come through when Dan died; him and Dr. Cox both did.

So…maybe they will again…

"You still there, little brother?"

There's something comforting about Dan calling me "little brother" and "Johnny" all the time. It's kind of like a bond we share. Carla once told me about her and her brother Marco speaking Spanish with each other to make them feel close than they actually are. Well, those little nicknames, those are what Dan and I have. He may not be the best brother at times, but who is?

"Johnny?"

"Y-yeah. Sorry. I'm here."

"What'd you need that's so important?"

_Just_ _say it_!

"C-can you come here? I need you…"

XXXXXXXX

XXXXXXXX

"I'll be there Johnny. Promise."

He's coming! Dan's coming! My big brother's actually coming!

I don't think I've ever been this excited to see Dan in my whole life. Sure Dan's my _big brother_ and I should _want_ to see him because we're _related_, but this time it's different. This time I think Dan and I can really connect. He sounded completely sincere over the phone at least, I mean, he was quiet, which is saying a lot for Dan, through most of my "story". He barely even interrupted me after he asked "Dude… Is this some sort of sick joke?" after I told him about the knife part, to which I responded with a full minute of silence before he told me to go on.

Of course, while I was recollecting the events, I'm pretty sure Dan was flipping through the newspapers to make sure I was telling the truth. Apparently there was actually something in the papers over where he lived, nothing big, just a little article. He'd seen the headlines but he hadn't read anything. Obviously the words "John Dorian, MD" weren't on it. All he did know was that it happened just a few block from Sacred Heart and, at first glance, he didn't think it was that big of a deal.

"Johnny? Did you hear me?"

"I-" I gulped down the breath I hadn't realized I was holding and shook my head. "Are you sure…?"

"_Jeezus_, Johnny." I think he had said that exact phrase almost fifty times when I was on the phone with him. "I'll be there. I _swear_."

To be honest, even if it does sound mean, I was skeptical about Dan's promise. He always makes promises to visit me but usually when that happens he gets "sidetracked" and ends up calling me from some motel in the middle-of-nowhere, drunk and with some random girl he'd picked up at a truck stop.

Dan told me he was going to get a few weeks off his job, maybe a whole month, maybe take a few "family emergency" days if they wouldn't let him leave on his own. I made him promise not to tell anyone there why he was coming out-of-the-blue. Not even Mom. She had her own problems these days, what with her new fiancé Stephan. Luckily, Dan was smart enough to be too afraid to tell Mom anything; he'd just lie and tell her it was another cross-country driving job like the first time he came to see me. That would work well enough; it wasn't like Mom keeps track of Dan's on-again off-again jobs anymore.

"Okay?"

Dang it. I need to stop zoning out. Especially on a conversation like this.

"Okay."

"I love you."

Now I know he's serious. Dan and I _almost never _say those words to each other. Never. Dan either told me he loved me if he was joking about something or if something terrible had happened. Like when I was 7 and Dan was 15, I had crawled into his bed in the middle of the night, just an hour after we figured out Dad left us. Dan held me as I cried into his chest, my first real visible sign of weakness in front of him, and he told me he loved me and would always protect me. We were never as close as other siblings, especially considering the age difference, but Dan always loved me and I always knew that, no matter how many times he pushed, teased, and bullied me.

So, right then and there, I nearly cried.

"I love you too."

"I'll be there Johnny. I _swear_."

Dan left without another word, probably to get packed and find a plane ticket or car for some sort of transportation. Maybe I should've asked about that first. Dan isn't exactly the richest guy in the world. How in world is he going to get here?

I shouldn't worry about it, should I? Dan said he'd get here. He swore.

After checking the clock on my phone, 6:20, I flipped it carefully shut and pushed off the chain-link fence, kicking mud from my sneakers. Right now Elliot probably slept through my 6 a.m. alarm, so she shouldn't be a hassle until her shift at 12 p.m., but I've still got an hour until my shift officially starts. I know Carla's shift starts around the same time as Elliot, considering they usually get off work together, and I'm sure Turk is on an hour or two after mine. Who the hell knows when Dr. Cox gets to the hospital and when he goes home? He's got his own schedule, as far as I can tell.

So, with the odds of 1:4, I probably have a good shot to grab a chart before anybody could stop me.

Of course, this is just like gambling. What was it that Turk always told me about gambling?

"The house always wins."

Of course Dr. Cox has to be the house.

Of-frickin'-course…

XXXXXXXX

XXXXXXXX

"You have got to be kidding me!"

Instantly, I swirled around and slammed my fist into the nearest locker. A loud _bang _ricocheted through the air of the doctor's lounge as Keith, standing in front of me hugging a chart to his chest, jumped nearly three feet. Running a hand through my hair, looking up with a small glare, I shook my head and mumbled a meek apology that probably didn't even reach my eyes. Not that I cared really. All I wanted to do was keep busy, but I can't even do that!

"I'm sorry Dr. Dorian. Dr. Cox threatened all of us death."

"Of course he did!"

I threw my hands up in the air and whirled around to catch Keith's gaze as he jumped even higher into the air. There really was no point in yelling at Keith like that. I mean, he was being threatened by the infamous Perry Cox, and everybody knows I got enough of that garbage when I was an intern. So being angry at Keith did me no justice, it just made me feel worse.

"I really am sorry… JD."

Looking toward him, this time with a frown plastering my face, I told him to "forget it" and, without another word, I shot him a glance that clearly told him to _leave me be_. Halfheartedly, I watched as Keith scurried out the door. As the door swung open I caught my interns crowding in the doorway, waiting like cattle to find out the latest gossip.

"_Well_?" Lisa, the bigmouth, was asking.

Keith simply replied, "_Leave it alone_."

There's one good thing about Elliot dating Keith, I know that much at least. Sure Keith had a helluva hard time being the "best intern", being the "boy toy of a resident" and being friends with most of his upper colleagues, but he also had the peer pressure of his fellow interns to face. It was more than I ever remembered when I was in his position. Damn near scary. At least over the past years we'd gotten into a half-descent where we wouldn't sell each other short. At least…not anymore…

Sighing, I turned toward my locker, making sure my back was to the door to make sure any unwanted eyes weren't going to come in, I fiddled with the silver lock before opening it.

I dressed out of my streets quickly and carefully, my movements slow and tedious but effective at that. For a second I checked the scratch on my shoulder and found it as red as a rash. Prodding it gently, hissing as my fingers came in contact, I pushed a long-sleeved shirt over my head before putting on my dark blue scrubs and pants, wrapping a stethoscope around my neck when I was done. Afterwards, I pocketed my cell phone in my scrubs pants and kicked on my work sneakers before turning back to lock my locker door.

"Okay," I told myself, "here we go. No worries."

I walked out the doctor's lounge and made a beeline towards the nurse's station just in time to find Laverne sitting behind the counter, her glasses tipped as she stared at the computer screen in front of her. Trying to look nonchalant, I hopped up to the station and leaned heavily onto the counter.

"Good morning."

"Q-Tip?" She questioned gloomily, not even sparing me a glance. "Nobody's shift starts at this odd of a time."

I shrugged. "I know–"

"Mm-hmm. Late?"

"No!" I frowned and scrunched up my nose disgustedly. "I came in early."

"Early?" She looked up, suddenly concerned. "Can I get you something, honey?"

Oh, gosh, Laverne only calls people "honey" when she thinks something's wrong and wants to sympathize. Wow! Even Laverne can read me like an open book. Do I really wear my heart so openly on my arm?

"Do you have my charts?"

"Sorry, honey. Dr. Cox–"

I shook my head. "Say no more."

"Maybe you should go lay down. You look tired. There's an empty on-call room…"

"I'm fine." I squirmed. "I'll just head to the men's room then get something from the café. Page me if you see Dr. Cox, please?"

"Sure thing."

Taking off down the hall, I turned into the men's room and frowned as I leaned my head back against the now-closed door and banged against it twice, the second time causing me to let out a hiss of pain. Running my hand down my face I looked into the mirror ahead of me.

_Jeezus…_

No wonder Laverne said I looked tired. My cheeks are sunken and my eyes are framed in dark black circles. When the hell did this happen? All because I couldn't sleep this one night? Maybe it's stress from calling Dan… Yeah! Calling Dan, that's what it is! It's gotta be.

Cupping my hands, after turning on the hot water, I immediately proceed to soak my face for three minutes. When I look up this time I don't really look all that better, just wet. Although, I guess the black is fading a little bit and there is some color returning to my cheeks. I guess that's if you really look though. Giving up on this task, I let out a frustrated growl and shove my head under the hand dryer, considering there are no more paper towels in the dispenser.

All I want is some peace and quiet.

Taking a glance out the door before slipping through, I deduce that the left way would probably bring me to the cafeteria quicker without running into a number of people I don't want to see. It would still be another ten minutes until they open for serving breakfast, but that didn't mean they wouldn't have some fresh brewed coffee. If not, I guess I could chug down water.

"Well, well, well… Doesn't this figure?"

–is the first thing I hear as I make my way through the double doors of the not-so-empty cafeteria. Quietly, I freeze in my steps and turn about-face to find a very agitated looking Janitor.

"Morning," I say with a small nod, which causes him to glare and me to flinch. I'm telling you, he gives the best stink-eye in the world! "Um…b-beautiful, huh…?"

"What's that supposed to mean?" he questions. "Are you calling me ugly?"

"W-what?"

"Oh! I see how it is!" Janitor pushes his chair back roughly, nearly tipping the piece of furniture over in the process. "You think I'm nothing, huh? You really do think you know everything, Dr. Smartass!"

What the hell is he talking about? I swear he loves to torture me.

"Excuse me?"

"What? You can't even eat in the same room with me?"

"I-I di-didn't say that…"

"You were thinkin' it!"

Oh, jeez, he reads minds!

(Not well, but I'm not telling him that).

"Fine! Fine! Fine! Just take my seat and don't even talk to me!"

"But-"

"No!" He gestured wildly to his chair. "Sit!"

Might as well do it or else he'll never leave. I shimmied around his large, jumpsuit form and gently plopped into the red seat. Watching his glare on me, I scooted my seat forward and laid my folded arms on the table, trying to look relaxed.

"Ahhh! You did it! I can't believe you actually did it!"

I nearly jumped up from the seat I had taken. "W-what?!"

"I can't _believe_ you actually took _my_ seat! What kind of doctor are you? Doctors _help_ people! You…you…_Stealer_!"

"No, wait…You said…"

"Forget it!" Janitor shook his head and strode off, picking his mop up and swinging it over his shoulder. "Just…Just _forget_ it!"

I watch him walk off and sigh. As I'm about to get up, already tired of the cafeteria, my eye catches something in the seat next to me.

What in the…?

Taking the odd object in my hand I found the weirdest thing in the world: A wrapped egg sandwich.

That's odd. Did he leave it here on purpose? It doesn't look touched, so it's probably not poisoned. Or, at least, I hope it's not. Only one way to find out though! Peeling the plastic back carefully, looking from side-to-side to make sure it wasn't a trap, I chomped down my first bite. I hadn't realized how hungry I was until now and it tasted _good_.

Sighing heavenly over the sandwich I had just gobbled down in three large bites, hopefully not stealing it, I leaned back and rubbed the cricks from my muscles. I checked my watch, still ten minutes. I don't know why I kept looking down; it wasn't like there was anything to do even if I did get on my shift finally.

"Ahhh!"

Jumping nearly out of my skin, my hands grabbed my cell phone, I forgot I had it on vibrate. Taking a moment to calm my erratically beating heart, I answered it quickly as I hopped from my chair and headed towards the door. I made it out the hospital in record time and carefully sat on the railing of the ramp outside.

"Hello?"

"Johnny?"

"Dan?"

Oh, geez. I dropped my head into my hand. Here it was. The "_Sorry, little brother, I got sidetracked and I can't make it. Let me know how it works out. Bye! _" The call I was dreading the moment I hung up with Dan.

"Listen, it's snowing all hell out here–"

"Snowing?" I looked towards the sky. I guess it was pretty dark considering the time. "It is?" I shivered, suddenly aware of how cold I was. "Shoot. Maybe you should stay–"

"NO!"

I nearly tumbled off the railing. I was still waiting for the excuse to not come here.

"W-what?"

"Johnny, I just called to tell you I may be a bit late. I'm _really _sorry I can't get out there earlier. There's just nothing opening up since the planes got grounded and I'm trying to hitch a ride with this guy–"

"Hitch a ride? Dan–"

"Don't worry _little brother_. I'm coming. I swore, didn't I?"

"Alright. I'm–"

"Bye. Love You."

He cut me off before I could tell him I was sorry. Sorry that I'm not able to trust my own brother…

"Gina!"

_BEEP. BEEP. BEEP. BEEP._

"Shit!" I cursed in surprise because this time I did fall, right into the bushes below. Looking behind me, backwards into the night sky, I found the grimace of Dr. Cox's eyes on me.

"Newbie!" Dr. Cox growled, "What _in the_ _hell_ are you doing?"

Staring at him for a moment, blinking slowly, I then shifted my eyes toward my pager, reading the message from Laverne: _Cox is starting._

"Well?"

Hopping up, wincing, I plastered on a faux smile. "I'm getting ready for work?"

Dr. Cox cocked a brow and shoved his hands into his brown jacket. Had he even set foot in the hospital?

"How long have you been here?"

"Nearly 30 minutes."

Shoot! What happened to lying?

"Have you even slept?"

"For 2 hours."

There is no lying to him!

"What about eating? What did you have after lunch yesterday?"

"I had food." I shrugged.

Lie! Lie! Lie! Lie! Lie! Lie!

"What'd you have?"

"Dr. Cox, you're not really my doctor since I discharged myself."

"AMA." He growled. "What'd you have Newbie?"

"An egg sandwich, okay?!" I threw my arms into the air and turned to head back into the hospital. "I honestly don't see why that's any of your business."

Dr. Cox's arm grabbed my shoulder roughly, luckily not the hurt one, and he whirled me around so fast that it made my head spin. He glared, hard, right into my eyes and I flinched under his intense gaze.

"Listen up Rosie! I don't care what the hell state-of-mind you've been put through to suddenly make you grow a pair, but, believe it or not, this here right now is not about you. This is about the goddamn patients you'll be treating." I turned away, now ashamed. He shook me and I was forced to meet his eyes again. "The first second you show a sign of incompetence Kelso will throw you out of here so fast you'll find yourself working the price check counter at the mini-mart, if you're lucky, because you know Kelso will spread word about an incompetent worker. You'll be out of a job. No sympathy."

I frowned. "I didn't ask for sympathy."

"No?" He questioned. "Well it doesn't matter anymore, because I'm not letting that happen to you. No way Newbie." He tightened his hold on my shoulder before letting go quickly and striding right into the hospital. He yelled over his shoulder, "Now get your ass in here before I change my mind about you shadowing me."

Maybe I was wrong. Maybe Dr. Cox and Dan would come through for me.

Maybe...


	4. My Shadowing Shift

**My Shadowing Shift**

Frowning, I carefully leaned forward and settled my elbows onto the tabletop in front of me as I rested my cheek comfortably in my hand, my eyes blinking slowly as I let out a small breath of air that soon turns into a yawn. I'd been dragged back to the cafeteria by Dr. Cox–despite my honest assurances that I'd already had a sandwich for breakfast–and he threw me into a seat claiming instant doom if I moved even an inch before he got back. I'm partially sure he did believe me about my breakfast crusades, but apparently having just a sandwich after my chili bowl lunch yesterday isn't enough to get me ready for today's work.

You see, though, I'm still not sure if I'm happy with the idea of shadowing Dr. Cox today. I mean, I know it's a transition back into the usual routine and it's _incredibly _important to prove to everybody that I'm capable to be around patients, but, the fact is, I'm an attending. I'm an attending! I have to shadow another attending? We're in the same league in this hospital–despite what Dr. Cox may say–and it doesn't seem fair. Is it? Is it fair?

"_Listen up Rosie! I don't care what the hell state-of-mind you've been put through to suddenly make you grow a pair, but, believe it or not, this here right now is not about you. This is about the goddamn patients you'll be treating."_

Hell yes, it is fair!

Thinking about it, looking at it from all sides, I am happy Dr. Cox is making me shadow him. I honestly don't think I could've handled this day if Dr. Cox just gave me a chart and shoved me into a room. Maybe this is for the best. I can't handle a dead patient of my conscience (I don't know how Doug does it).

A sharp whistle, sounding above me, causes me to jump in my seat and my body snaps back and straightens. My heart pounds erratically in my chest and it takes me a moment to understand what's going on. A slamming sound resounds through the air and pushes me out of my shocked daze. Looking up, embarrassed, I briefly catch the eyes of Dr. Cox, who's looking at me like I'm the world's biggest ass.

Heh. That's an odd image.

He growls, sending me into a better form of consciousness. Suddenly I'm very aware that I've been staring at Dr. Cox. He glares at me, cutting through my very soul, and I shiver involuntarily underneath the intensity.

"Here," he says, sliding a lidless coffee cup across the table, the brown liquid swirling unsteadily. "Drink up."

I look down. "I'm not really–"

"You look like hell," Dr. Cox snapped, interrupting me. "_Drink up._"

Immediately, without really thinking, I snatched up the cup and sipped it quickly, the hot liquid washing slowly and easily down my parched throat. Stifling back a groan, I lowered the cup away from my lips and wiped my face with my sleeve. Looking over to Dr. Cox, I saw that he had taken it upon himself to grab his own lunch: a tray of three pancakes, two strips of bacon, and his own coffee. Thankfully, he got me nothing. I don't think I could keep down anything, even after my one sandwich.

"Now," Dr. Cox said, stabbing at his food, "this is how this will go. You will shadow me the whole day. The _whole _day. Lunch is at whatever time I let you off my leash. Yes, I did say _leash_. My so-called _promise_ is that we will not be working with hypochondriacs, hangnails, the flu, or any other common disease that can be diagnosed from a mile away. We will go through a normal day, interacting with patients. You do not do anything unless I okay it first. No excuses. Is that clear?"

My frown, if possible, deepened, but I nodded nonetheless–

SLAM.

My head snapped up and I caught Dr. Cox's clenched fist digging hard into the table.

"Sorry," I said. "What…?"

"Lookit here, Newbie, there is no this," he bobbed his head up and down in example. "If you screw this up it'll be the last, the _very last_, think you will ever do in this here hospital." He slams his hands again when I start to look down. "Not let me ask you again: _Is that clear?_"

"P-perfectly"

My voice is cracked and wavering, making me feel like more of an asshole than I already am.

Bathing in the thin line of tension floating between us, I looked away from Dr. Cox and searched my eyes around the cafeteria for something else to watch, trying to get my attention on something other than my mentor.

_Tick-Tock, Tick-Tock, Tick-Tock_

7:45 a.m.

It was about the time when the nightshift staff would leave and the morning staff started. Looking around, I could clearly see the modification from when I had been in here a few moments earlier: Not only had the cafeteria been cleaned–for the moment–but the workers had put out all the chairs and tables and brought out the hotplates filled with various foods and drinks. Now, littering the tables near Dr. Cox and mine's, a variety of scrubbed and white coat doctors sat with their own respective trays. Near the corner of the room I could even see what seemed to be the family of patients admitted in the hospital.

One hand, belonging to a pink-scrubbed nurse, waved to me and I immediately ducked my head. Her eyes shot me the sympathetic look I did not want to see and, now, I could see the look everywhere I turned.

I hated that look.

_Tick-Tock, Tick-Tock, Tick-Tock_

I feel like timing my day. Maybe I can't wait for it to end. That stupid tick-tock'ing is already getting in my hand.

"Newbie!"

What…? My cheek had somehow traveled back down to the palm of my hand and I was staring once again at Dr. Cox.

"Sorry…erm…" I gulped. "Did you say something?"

"My God, Patricia, you _must stop tapping_."

Tapping? Oh…

_Tip-Tap, Tip-Tap, Tip-Tap_

Whoops.

_Tick-Tock, Tick-Tock, Tick-Tock_

Just like that damned clock.

Drawing back slowly, my fingers curling into my palm as if I was making a fist, I slowly stuffed my hands down under the table and rested them comfortably in my lap. Looking up, flinching under Dr. Cox's gaze, I frowned and looked back down at the tabletop, unable to look into his eyes, which were seethed with unleashed worriment and shame.

Of course, maybe the latter was released.

"Sor–"

"_Stop_ saying you're sorry,"

"Sor…" I trailed off and shook my head, gulping. "Right."

_Vvzzz_

My phone. Shit. I put it on vibrate.

I took it out of my pocket and looked at the caller id: Elliot Reid. Dang it, I knew she'd do this.

"Well, what are you waiting for?" Dr. Cox questioned, sipping his coffee. "Answer the damn thing."

"Right, well," I stood, tossing my coffee cup into the nearest bin, "I'll just…"

"You sure as hell better answer your page."

Taking this as an okay to leave, I nodded once and took off through the double doors of the cafeteria. The phone stopped vibrating, but, knowing Elliot, I knew it would start up again.

_Vvzzz_

See? I knew it.

Realizing that I probably looked like a lunatic running through the halls, dodging and ignoring sympathetic looks, I skidded to a stop in the stairwell and leaned against the wall. One hand cradled my forehead and the other held my flip phone to my ear.

"Hello?"

"JD?" Elliot's voice broke through, screeching. "JD? Oh, God, JD?!"

I knew she'd be worried, but I didn't really expect her to be _this_ hysterical–and that's saying a whole lot for Elliot.

"JD? Are you there? Answer! Come on, JD!"

Oh. Is that me?

What the hell type of question is that…? Of course it's me!

"Frick! JD?"

Shoot. Too long.

"Sorry," I gulped, praying my voice to stop stammering, "I'm um…right here. What's wrong?"

Elliot heaves a sigh. "JD? Thank God you answered. I've been calling you for a while now. I thought you took off or something, I even phoned Turk. Carla wouldn't answer her phone. I was even about to call _Dr. Cox_. Good thing I didn't, huh? He would've been so mad…"

My God, she rants like the wind!

"JD? Did you hear me?"

Why do I have to zone out the moment she's actually talking about something I'm supposed to be paying attention to?

"N-no. Sorry Elliot, I've got things on my mind."

"Oh…well, I woke up a few minutes ago and I noticed you were gone."

"It's my shift."

"When did you leave? I was hoping we could have breakfast together first."

I sighed, rubbing my temple. "A few hours ago. My shift starts before yours, Elliot. I'm on Dr. Cox's clock and–"

"What do you mean Dr. Cox?"

"He's making me shadow him today instead of me having to do paperwork."

Elliot paused.

"Hello…?" I frowned.

"Dr. Cox isn't on today. He's not on all week!"

"What're you talking about?" I questioned. "I just saw him a few minutes ago; he made me have coffee with him."

"I'm serious! I asked Jordan last week and she said Dr. Cox was going to take the week off to spend time with her and Jack…"

Oh…my… Why'd she have to tell me this? Now I know I'm not as paranoid as I think I am! He's looking after me and he's following me and he's making sure I don't screw up. Am I really that inept?

_Jeezus_

"JD, you there?" Elliot's voice screeched again. "Oh… Frick! I shouldn't have said that, huh? I'm _so_ sorry!"

"No…" I gulped down whatever was clogged in my throat. "It's fine. Seriously. Was there something else you wanted?"

Without even seeing it, I could feel Elliot's frown on me. "No. I was just worried I guess. Are we gunna get to talk? You were sleeping last night when I get home."

"I-I'm not sure…" I said, whispering. "Listen, Elliot, I really have to go. I'll see you for your shift."

"But–"

"Bye."

Without waiting for a response, I quickly shut my phone and stuffed it into my pocket, Elliot's lingering worry still looming in the air as I stood as still as stone in the stairwell. I'm thinking I should probably look for Dr. Cox, but he didn't really say anything about that. All he wanted was for me to answer his page. He hasn't paged me, so what do I do? I could go find one of my interns and check on them, but I'm pretty sure the only person on call is Gloria, and I know she's usually with Leonard the security guard this early in the morning and I do not want to see what they're up to. No, maybe I'll just walk around, hopefully avoiding people. Maybe that'll work. Dr. Cox should page me soon anyway.

Nodding my head in silent confirmation with myself, I push myself off the wall and, after massaging the cricks from my back, slowly make my way down the stairs towards my unknown destination. I poke my head through the door exiting the stairwell, my eyes checking left and right for people, and quietly slip through when a crack in traffic shifts.

If I keep my head down people shouldn't notice me like usual. Besides, I'm the one who's usually singing and skipping down the hallways.

Of course, who doesn't notice me even then?

JD: the lanky, tall, daydreaming, _handsome_ doctor

Yup. I'm sure hard to miss…

"Ahhh! Damn it!"

Not again…

A spray of silver charts flash before my eyes and a clattering sound hitting the floor immediately makes me wince involuntarily. Dropping to me knees, I shoot my hands out and attempt to help out whoever I had just bumped into. You know what? I think this is a bad sign. This happened the first day I was back, didn't it? How did that turn out? Paperwork, paperwork, and more paperwork. See, what I need to do is fix my klutziness and then I'll have a good day!

Oh, geez… Am I even listening to myself anymore? Me, John "JD" Dorian, fix my own klutziness?

_My _klutziness?

I swear I'm getting more like Elliot everyday.

Shoot! What am I doing? I just zoned out on the floor. Abort the mind!

Abort! Abort! Abort!

"I'm sorry! I'm _so _sorry!" I chanted over and over again, not really sure if I was apologizing for zoning out or for bumping into that person.

Shakily, I scrambled along the ground and picked up the majority of the charts.

"Bambi?"

Shoot…what the hell are the odds?

I looked up and gulped.

"Carla?"

She arched a brow quizzically. "What are you doing here so early? You look _exhausted_."

Shaking my head, moving to gather the charts on the floor, I changed subjects quickly, bluntly, and not-so-tactfully.

"I'm really sorry about this. I wasn't thinking… Or, maybe I was. I-I mean–oh, I've got a lot on my mind. I'm sorry. I should've been looking where I was going. Are you all right? You fell didn't you? I heard you yell out too. Did I hurt you? Geezus, I'm such a klutz."

My voice is high and pitchy, moving at warped speed.

See? Just like Elliot everyday.

"Heh… Now look at me. I'm rambling aren't I? Damn it. I'm sorry–"

"JD, _stop_."

I kept my head down, but adjusted my view. Her hands were on mine; she could feel my shaking.

Nervousness? Fear? Embarrassment?

Probably all three.

"This was my fault." She chuckled lightly to hide the tension I had created. "_I_ wasn't looking, _I_ wasn't paying attention, and _I_ ran into you."

"Oh…" Talk about more embarrassment. "Are you sure…?"

Carla squeezed my hands reassuringly. "Bambi, _relax_."

I nod.

Together we gathered up the charts, me talking some of the load, and walked down the halls together.

"So," she began, "what're you doing here so early?"

"What are _you_?" I questioned, avoiding eye contact. "Don't you start with Elliot?"

"Usually." Carla shrugged, taking the change with stride. "I'm picking up extra shifts for some money. Turk and I are still trying so, just in case, I want to make sure we're going to be set financially." She looked to me. "Didn't Elliot tell you last night? I asked her to."

I shook my head. "I wasn't awake when she got home."

Lies!

"She didn't get home that late, did she?"

"I just went to sleep earlier."

More lies!

Of course Carla would be able to see through it.

She stopped near the door to the lounge and clicked her tongue at me. "Bambi, are you lying to me?"

"What…? No!" I frowned, still avoiding eye contact. "Why?"

Before I could move away, Carla's hand flew out and landed on my forehead.

"_Bambi!"_ she scolded. "You're warm. Have you been eating?"

"Carla…" I ducked underneath the hand and moved away. "I'm fine. Really."

I'm such a liar.

"You do look like you need to sleep."

I shook my head. "I'm fine. Just ready to work."

"_Great!_ Just _so _happy to hear you ready to get down to the dirty business. And I, honest to God, don't mean _that _dirty business, Kimberly." A hand comes out of the doctor's lounge and wraps around my scrubs top. Dr. Cox stalks out–I wonder how long he'd been there–with a gigantic smile plastering his face. "Now I'm going to pretend I haven't paged you fifteen times in the last two minutes…"

Paged me? Oh, God… Did I really ignore him like that?

Shoot! Shoot! Shoot!

"Perry," Carla admonishes, "don't scare him like that. I've been here and you haven't been paging him."

Dr. Cox rolled his eyes. "Had to suck away the fun, didn't you?"

"Be nice to Bambi," Carla says.

My heart, calming down from my mini attack, flattens in my chest. At least Carla is sticking up for me. Glad to know that hasn't changed.

"Can you imagine me _not _scaring Kimberly?"

Carla pauses, thoughtful.

"You have a point…"

Great! Never mind! Thanks a lot Carla!

Dr. Cox pumps his hands in the air in an exaggerated victory dance.

This time Carla rolls her eyes, gathering her charts from my hands, patting me on the shoulder. "Take it easy you two." Before I can even say anything, not that I probably would, she disappears into the lounge and leaves me alone with Dr. Cox, who has abruptly stopped dancing not that Carla is not here.

"Right." He nods. "Where were we?"

Did I know? Was I supposed to answer?

Smack!

Retaliating, I flinched back as Dr. Cox clapped his hands in front of my face.

"No daydreaming here, Newbie."

I bite my lip from saying sorry, but I'm pretty sure if I did apologize he wouldn't necessarily answer because he was already halfway down the hallway, dragging me with him, telling me to use my legs and move my ass. Ducking out from underneath his death grip, I readjusted my scrubs top and obediently fell in step behind him. He immediately slammed a chart into my chest, forcing my hands around it.

"First patient," he said, shortly.

No hypochondriac. No hypochondriac. No hypochondriac.

"Head trauma…"

"Now, Newbie," Dr. Cox said, cutting through my trail of thoughts, "I know you did not just smile at the idea of a hurt patient–"

Did I? Oh, God. I smiled?

Quickly, I frowned.

Dr. Cox growls and shakes his head, snatching the chart back in one swift reflex. "His name is Eric Donahue and he's in need of staples, three to be exact, and you're doing them."

I stop short from the door, Dr. Cox continuing on.

Stepping up to the window, looking through the half-open blinds, I checked out the patient. Inside a young male, probably in his late-twenties or early-thirties, I'm not sure, was sitting on the edge of the hospital bed with a half uninterested look on his face. He was dressed in an old pair of jeans and a white shirt underneath a plain button up, which was dotted with crimson. One hand rested in his lap while the other held a piece of gauze to the back of his head. Looking off to the side I found a brown-haired, dark-skinned lady, around the same age as him, standing with her arms folded. They were talking quietly amongst themselves, most likely arguing by the look on her face.

"Newbie!"

I yelped as Dr. Cox once again grabbed me by the neck and I protested as he dragged me into the room.

Eric and the woman snapped their heads in my direction.

"Hiya!" Eric said, grinning toothily.

The woman frowned. "Who's this?"

"This," Dr. Cox said, "is Dr. Dorian and he will be doing Mr. Donahue's staples right now."

"What's Eric need another doctor for?"

"Awww," Eric groaned, "Sharon be nice to the poor guy. He looks rough enough as it is."

I do? I touch my cheek but immediately freeze as Eric laughs.

"Hey, man, I'm just kidding you."

Sharon rolled her eyes.

I flash a grim smile and she replied with a warm grin, her lips curving perfectly and cheeks puffing slightly.

Dr. Cox whistles, nearly causing me to jump–it was my cue. Pulling on my gloves, I stepped up to Eric, asked him to lower his head, and tilted the overhead light slightly so I could take a better look at the laceration. Eric winced as I prodded the area and Sharon's grin turned quickly into a frown.

"Is he going to be all right?" Sharon questioned, showing but an inch of worry.

Eric laughed and knocked on the part of his head I wasn't checking on. "Of course; I've got a hard head. You said so yourself."

Sharon laughed.

It's hard to see the relationship between two people until they're together and sharing a joke, an argument, or anything conversational or emotional. I think that's what's so difficult about letting visitors into the hospital; you're not sure whether they're actually related or even if they're actually friendly to the patient. See, sometimes the patient isn't even awake, so when somebody comes in that can mean anything, and it's not always good.

"…and we're going soon."

Shit. I zoned out again.

Taking the proper instrument in my hand, making sure to keep it out of Eric and Sharon's eye line, I carefully aimed and shot: 3 times.

Eric winced each time and, shortly after the first shot, Sharon immediately took his hand.

After checking the staples, making sure they were in right, I straightened up from my hunched form and tore off my gloves. I nodded to Dr. Cox and stepped away–

"Hey, man..."

I freeze. I look down.

His hand is wrapped firmly around my wrist.

"Did you see anything?"

My voice is shaky. My voice is stammering. I can't get words out. I blink wearily, breathing silently and slowly. His hand doesn't even falter and I don't have the guts to try and wretch myself free from his iron grip. His large brown eyes center on me and, looking up, I can see Sharon staring into me with the same awkward look.

"Is something wrong?" Sharon frowns and arches a brow. "He's not too hurt, is he?"

"N-no…um…you see…um…"

Oh, God… Why is he still touching me?

Eric: "You say "um" a lot, don't you?"

Sharon: "He only said it twice."

Eric: "Twice is a lot."

Suddenly a seemingly powerfully force, which turns out to be Dr. Cox, breaks Eric's hold on my wrist. He moves me back discreetly and slowly, mumbling, "Use your damned words" after getting me moved to a more comfortable distance.

I nod, mostly to myself, and turn back, more confident.

"I've inserted the three staples and they should be able to come out in exactly one week. It may hurt for a while, but you can take the same pharmaceutical pain pills. Don't wash your head for two days and try not to overexert yourself."

Sharon sighs and puts a hand to her chest. "That's it?"

I nod.

"God, man, you looked like you were about to tell me I was going to die or something." Eric laughed nervously. "Good thing. I'd hate to have that kind of news."

"Right," Dr. Cox cut in their small talk. "We'll send somebody in with your discharge papers."

I nodded again, saying nothing, and followed my mentor out the door.

Subconsciously, after leaving the room and stopping near the nurse's station as Dr. Cox scribbled a few things on Eric's chart, I rubbed my wrist, scratching my sensitive skin. I looked down, expecting to see a hand mark, but found my wrist fairly clean, except for the reddish color I was beginning to develop. Dr. Cox handed off the chart to nearest nurse before turning to me.

"Right," he said, nodding.

Dropping my hands against my sides, I nodded too.

First patient: Not that bad, thank goodness.

"Now," Dr. Cox said to me, "I'm sure as hell going to pretend you didn't just freeze up in there, Newbie. Got it?"

Against my better judgment, I started, "Sor–"

"Don't even," he interrupted.

Dr. Cox walked off down the hall and I followed him again.

XXXXXXXX

XXXXXXXX

Over the next three hours Dr. Cox led me from patient room to patient room. There were, obviously, no major cases, just many little ones of kids, teenagers, adults, and the elderly. Never had I seen so many cases of the common cold, lacerations, bumps, bruises, broken ligaments, hangovers, and viruses. It was like being back in medical school all over again. I think it's even more amazing that Dr. Cox never showed how tired he got of the kiddie cases he always, somehow, managed to blindly grab out from the chart holder. Of course, I'm pretty sure Dr. Cox was in cahoots with Laverne and Carla.

I swear they're plotting against me.

Well, at least I was doing better with patients. I still got pretty jumpy whenever somebody brushed up against me or touched me, but I was working on hiding it. A few of the older, wiser patients noticed my discomfort right away and asked me what was wrong, but I just said I was an overexcited kind of person. They didn't believe me and every single time I walked by their rooms I got shot with the sympathetic looks.

I guess there's no way to escape it.

Dr. Cox finally gave me a case to do on my own, though, so I'm thankful to see that he thinks I'm making some progress. I mean, my patient only has the flu but…well, it's better than nothing!

"Here we go." I carefully placed my hand against the side of the man's (Ronald Donnelley) head and stuck the thermometer into his ear. Quickly, a beeping sound started from the white instrument and I extracted it and read the number to myself. "Well, you've got a temperature, but it's nothing serious."

Mr. Donnelley frowned and blew into his handkerchief.

Sitting down in the rolling chair across from him, writing in my chart, I looked up and frowned. "The only thing I can give you for the stomachache and headache are the regular pharmaceutical painkillers." He nodded. "Is there any other symptoms you haven't told me? Possibly another reason for your chest pain?"

"No."

I put my stethoscope up against his back and chest, respectively, and listened.

Nothing.

Sitting back, writing down some more notes, I frowned. "I'd like to monitor your stats for a few hours, see if anything happens."

Mr. Donnelley nodded. "I'm not going anywhere."

"I'll check on you later. Just get some rest for now and I'll have a nurse get you some lunch."

"Thank you, Dr. Dorian. I really appreciate it."

I smiled slightly. I helped somebody and, walking out the door, my head held high, I turned to Dr. Cox, who had been standing there _conveniently_ outside the door, and told him what I had just done.

"Well, Chandra," he said in the same condescending tone he always used, "it seems as if the _skills _have returned and you are in fact a real _doctor _who has enough experience to diagnose the _common flu _and keep a patient here for a longer time than he initially requires."

"I was just trying to help–"

Dr. Cox pointed his finger at me. "Do _not _get involved."

"I understand that now–"

"Do you?"

I say nothing. Maybe I don't understand.

Maybe he doesn't either.

"Check the clock, Newbie."

I turned.

12:24 p.m.

"Lunchtime, Newbie." He said, not even looking at me. "You've got 10 minutes. _Eat something_."

I nodded, turned and climbed the stairwell towards the cafeteria's floor.

"JD! Hey, JD!"

Turk. I turned and watched him wave enthusiastically in my direction, running towards me.

"Hey…" I said, shortly.

"Man, I've been looking everywhere for you. Carla told me you were shadowing Dr. Cox but you two have really been patient-hopping today, it's hard to keep up with where you are." Turk wrapped an arm around my shoulders and led me into the lunch line behind him. "I'm _starving_. Aren't you? Thankfully it's Chicken Fried Steak Day."

Taking a tray, I moved through the line with him and, silently, we made it to a table, sitting across from each other.

"Elliot called me," Turk said suddenly, my ears perking up at this. Surely they were talking about me. "She said she couldn't get a hold of you?"

I stabbed at my chicken. "She did… I talked to her this morning, when my shift first started."

"How come you weren't answering your phone before? I called maybe ten times."

"When did you call?"

"I dunno… Maybe two hours ago?"

I took out my phone, confused.

"I accidentally turned it off." Pressing a few buttons, I searched through the call history. "You called me ten times?"

Turk shrugged, chugging his strawberry milk. "Just about."

I shook my head, still poking through my phone. Pressing a few more buttons, I looked through my answering machine and put it to my ear. "Dan left me a message…" I said, mostly to myself, not really thinking of the words coming out of my mouth.

"Really…?" Turk frowned. "Did he say why?"

"Actually," I shut my phone and shoved it back into my pocket, "I called Dan this morning."

Turk's eyes widened and he repeated, "_Really_?"

"Yeah, I told him everything."

"Damn… Man, how'd he take it?"

"Surprised, by the sound of his voice. I'll bet the only reason he's coming down here is to make sure I'm not lying."

"Probably."

"What…? Probably?" I nearly choked on my chilidog as I coughed out Turk's offhanded answer. "What'd you mean _probably?_ Isn't that a bad thing that he's coming down here for that particular reason?"

"Well…if he's coming down here because he's _hoping _that you're lying than he's obviously coming down here because he's scared for you. If he's coming down here because of what you said, than that means he's being supportive." Turk shrugged and licked his fingers clean of chili. "You said you called him this morning? There aren't many reasons for him to come down here, out-of-the-blue, because he doesn't care."

I frowned. Once again doubting my brother has brought me nothing but shame and embarrassment.

"Forget that." Turk shook his head and sipped his soda. "Cox got you on patients again? Spill, man."

"Didn't Carla tell you about this?"

"She went home. Her shift ended before lunch, maybe an hour ago right now."

"There isn't much to talk about. I haven't gotten any interesting cases."

"Come on, it's Cox. No interesting cases at all?"

"Zilch. None. Zero." I shrugged. "It's been pretty boring, but it's better than being stuck with paperwork all day."

We ate together the rest of the time engaging in some friendly conversations, with me nodding along to some of what Turk was saying when I zoned out. He was telling me about new techniques he was trying with Carla to help them get pregnant; I honestly didn't want to hear that. That's the stuff you got to the Todd with. But I guess that's–

BEEP. BEEP. BEEP.

"Man… _Come on!" _Turk complained, startling me more than my pager. "It's barely been ten minutes!"

"Right on the dot," I muttered, glancing at the clock hanging on the wall. "Guess I better go."

Turk frowned and made a whipping noise, jerking his hand back and forth.

Instinctively I smiled and Turk, noticing this, stopped and smiled too.

Trust Turk to get me smiling with him.

XXXXXXXX

XXXXXXXX

"Uh-oh, Bambi. What'd you do this time?"

"What?"

Looking up, I followed Carla's outstretched finger down the hall just in time to catch the odd sight of a billowing white coat clad Dr. Cox stomping down the halls, shaking his head and staring at me, hard. Behind me I tried to ignore the chuckles of Carla and Laverne as they whispered back and forth to each other, no doubt gossiping about me and what I must have done to cause Dr. Cox's obvious piss-y mood. I flinched nervously as I waited for Dr. Cox to make it to the nurse's station; it felt like he was taking _hours _between each step just to annoy me.

"NEWBIE!" he yelled, once he made it. He slammed his hand on the nurse's station, getting a glare from Laverne. "Just where the hell have you been?"

I turned, straightening in front of my mentor. "I just got back from the cafeteria. Lunch, remember?"

Dr. Cox growled. Maybe I was being sarcastic.

"If you'll check your clock it clearly states that exactly 12 minutes has past and I clearly remember giving you 10 minutes," Dr. Cox said. "Now I don't care if you and Gandhi just _had to _go out to the nearest shoe stop and by those _darling _black lace panties but I've been able to–"

Carla let out a loud laugh, cutting off Dr. Cox.

"E-excuse me?" he questioned, eyes wide as he turned away from me and stared at Carla.

"…clearly states that 12 minutes has past…" she mocked in her dynamite Dr. Cox voice, rolling her eyes. "Please, Perry! Drop the bad façade."

Another growl elicited from Dr. Cox and, instead of moving back into his usually long rant, he grabbed a chart from Carla's outstretched hand, whistled to me, and stomped back down the hall towards the next patient.

"Careful, Bambi!"

I turned and flashed a grim smile to Carla before taking off after my mentor.

The first patient after lunch was a young 35 year old man who had just gotten into a fight with one of his coworkers on their construction sight. He had the trademark yellow hardhat on and was wearing a sleeveless plaid shirt–no undershirt–and a pair of dark blue jeans that was covered in dirt. At first glance he looked like a normally healthy man.

What was wrong with him? Well, that first glance would cause somebody to do a double take once they saw that the man was unconscious and bleeding all hell of his arm, which was bent in a way in which no ligament should be bent.

"He knows I didn't mean to…" Ryan, one of the man's (Steve) friends said. "It was an accident, was all. Is he going to be all right?"

Dr. Cox bent over, dodging a nurse who was carefully cleaning the wound, and muttered to himself, "Out of the socket…"

"What does that mean?"

I shimmied around Ryan's form and stood near Dr. Cox's hunched form.

"Well?" Ryan questioned, his eyes widening by the second. "What's wrong?"

Clearing his throat, Dr. Cox gestured to me with his eyes.

Oh! That's my patient!

I turned. "He'll be fine. It looks like a simple fracture. Would you care to step outside, sir…?"

"No… No, he's my–" He stepped toward me and I involuntarily took a step back. "What…? What's wrong? Come on, doc, I just want to stay here for a while and apologize to the guy…" He took another step toward me and I took another step back. "Come on, man…"

"CLAM UP!" Dr. Cox said, standing suddenly, causing both of us to jump. "You are not a family member. You are not a doctor. You are not a trained professional. You do not have the certification to be in this room. Please leave or we can have you removed."

Ryan stepped back this time. "There's no need to do that, man. I just wanted to know what was wrong."

He fled from the room and Dr. Cox instantly ordered an intern to go out after him.

"All right," Dr. Cox said, snapping on his gloves, "Newbie we're going to pop this damned thing into place…"

I nodded, pulling on my own gloves and carefully laid across the man's legs, holding him down.

"No, no, no…" he told me. "You're going to be pulling–"

I shook my head. "You know I'm not strong enough to do that. Look how big this guy is."

Dr. Cox frowned, but nodded nonetheless. He gestured for one of the interns to lie across the man's chest near me and carefully got into place near Steve's arm, carefully counting down to himself–

"1…2…3…"

–and pulled.

"Ahhhh!"

It's always scary when a patient–especially a big, muscular guy–wakes up in the middle of getting his joint popped back into place. For this guy, however, it's even worse. I mean, he was unconscious when he was brought in and the last thing he probably remembers is having his arm being pulled out of its socket. Plus, what Dr. Cox is doing, it makes it seem like it's happening all over again.

So Steve wakes up to four people around him (me, Dr. Cox, the intern and the nurse) and starts freaking out. He's screaming his lungs out, fighting back with all his might, and just making all sorts noises that patients really shouldn't be making.

"Shit!"

Dr. Cox stammers back from a punch to the cheek and the nurse squeals as he barks for a sedative. The intern is carelessly thrown from the man's body now that Steve's got his arms free and suddenly I find myself grinding my feet to the ground as I struggle to hold his flailing limbs.

For a second I think I have him down. For a second I think I'm under control. For a second I think I'm the strongest man in the world for staying on my own two feet.

Of course, a second can only last so long…

Immediately I'm lifted up into the air by the man's legs and swished around in the air like some broken rag doll. As I hit my limit and my arms weaken and break their grip, a point in gravity is cut and I'm thrown backwards. My back connects with the hard, white plaster wall behind me and the back of my head bounces uncharacteristically against the hard surface. I gasp in pain as I flop to the floor.

My eyes close to the impending darkness…

I'm done.


	5. My Forgotten Memory

**My Forgotten Memory**

Blinking, savoring a few moments of pleasant darkness, I carefully wrap myself into a tight ball as my hands quickly snake around my knees and proceed to pull my legs toward my chest. I clear my throat as something catches in my windpipe causing me to let out a horrible, hacking cough that burns my lungs. Wearily, I hear the mattress below me creak as I shift into a more comfortable position, my head moving to the side so I can carefully dig my face into the stiff pillow behind me and muffle the pained groan that suddenly escapes me. I turn my head back and focus my attention to my surroundings, immediately realizing that I'm not in my bedroom but in one of the hospital rooms in Sacred Heart.

I'm dirty, I'm exhausted, and I'm weak. This is terrific. Every single movement is causing me so much pain that I have to bite my tongue just to keep from crying out from the agonizing feeling that comes over my body in one of those out-of-the-blue moments. There's a certain pounding resounding through my head but I think what's worse from all that is that I'm thoroughly confused. I mean, _beyond_ confused! I'm downright _perplexed_!

Why the hell am I lying in a hospital room and why the hell do I feel like shit?!

Ow…

I probably shouldn't think-yell, especially since it's hurting my head even more, if that's even possible.

Okay, forget that now Dorian. Breathe. Flip the little switch and…

Doctor Mode!

_Who are you?_ Doctor John Dorian, MD.

_Where are you?_ Sacred Heart Hospital

_What day is it?_ Does anybody ever know that answer without looking it up?

_What's the last thing you remember?_

Aha! The clincher!

The last thing I think I remember is going into my patient's room to find a chart and then turning around to find Doctor Cox yelling at me, in a girl's name as usual, about some test that I ordered that was wasting his and everybody else's time. Then I went on about how it wasn't his patient and that I was a competent enough doctor to handle myself and I wasn't a lowly intern anymore–no offence to Keith, who had been standing on the other side of the room trying to look invisible as his two superiors argued over a patient who, despite having went missing, I continued to work on.

"_It was your duty to watch him, Newbie!"_

"_I was! We were getting a test and–"_

"_Did you get the results to this test yet?"_

"_No, but I'm sure it'll be positive. Did you see the way he was acting?"_

"_No I didn't, and you know why? Because I was treating a real patient who needed real medical help, not some nut job who keeps going on and on about having to let the dog out and turn his oven off like some petty housewife. You were supposed to turf him and go help Mr. Smith downstairs, he's a damned gunshot wound victim and could've died if Barbie and Turtlehead didn't resuscitate him! How does that feel? A death on you hands?"_

"_Turk told me about that and Elliot was doing just fine without me. The guy lived! Seeing as how my patient left AMA why the hell are you arguing with me now?"_

Now I get it. I got punched by Dr. Cox! He's done it before, when my dad died, so why wouldn't he do it again?

Shifting, I carefully unstring my arms from my knees and push my hands down on the mattress below me, moving myself into a sitting position. My long legs swing over the side and my feet, still covered with shoes, hit the ground with a low sounding 'thunk'. Cradling my head in my hands for a moment, I run my palm down the length of my face and rub the sleep from my eyes. Afterwards I straighten and swing from side-to-side, cracking the cricks from my back, and slowly I push myself up to my feet, stopping a moment to balance myself as dark splotches began to form in my vision.

My legs, moving as if they were independent from my body, slinked towards the door, exhaustion like I never felt immediately settling on my heavy heart. I reach the door of the room in what seemed life four hours, but was, in reality, only four second. I rested my head on the wooden door and took a few deep breaths to settle my fast-beating heart before I wrap my finger securely around the silver doorknob, its warmth reminding me of Elliot's cold hands.

Considering the rate at which I'm moving it doesn't seem like I'll make it very far.

Maybe I should just stay here.

I shake my head, straighten my scrubs top to seem more presentable, and turn the doorknob in one swift movement. In five long strides I leave the room behind me as I blindly power walk through the halls of the hospital. The further I get the slower my walks becomes until, all at once, I felt like I wasn't even moving. The bright lights of the corridor do a number on my night-relaxed eyes and my head begins to pound in certain pain.

Holy… What time is it?

Making my way to the cafeteria, dodging nearly every single person in my path by ducking in patient rooms and closets and around corners, I look both ways before sticking my head through the double doors of the canteen. Everything was deserted but, judging by the light outside, it wasn't too late that I had slept. Sniffing the air I catch the after-scents of week old chilidogs and out-of-date Frito Pie. That means lunch, which is odd… Maybe my nose is just off.

Nah! That can't be it! Still though…I mean if it's the leftovers from lunch–

"JD"

Jumping outright as a shaky voice fills my ears, I spin around just in time to catch the wide eyes of Doug "Nervous Guy" Murphy. He doubles back during my sudden actions and holds his hands out in front of him protectively, almost as if he was defending himself from some weird manic person. Of course, maybe I am manic right now. Who knows?

After realizing I was staring at Doug longer than I probably should have, I blink calmly and take a deep breath.

"Sorry," he muttered, miserably. "Did I startle you?"

Hell yes!

"N-no." I shake my head and clear my throat, my cheeks reddening in embarrassment at my cracked voice. "Did you need something?"

"I'm sorry," he apologized again. His hands go down to his side and he hops nervously from foot to foot. "You've been unconscious for a while … Did you just wake up or something?"

I nod.

"Oh, well, that's good that Dr. Cox allowed you to keep working even after that. They were beginning to think you got a concussion after you hit that wall and–"

Whoa! Wait! Back it up!

"Hit the wall?" I interrupted, questioning. "What do you mean?"

Doug cocks his head. "After you got hit you got knocked into the wall."

"Oh! You mean after Dr. Cox punched me."

"_What? _JD, Dr. Cox did–"

Shaking my head and waving my hand, cutting him off, I instead question, "What time is it?"

"Nearly 12:50 p.m."

Heh that shows my nose isn't off with my lunch assumption near the cafeteria, but that doesn't really ease my confusion. If anything though, with the facts lying in front of me, I think I may be even more confused than before–if that's even possible. I mean, wasn't it nearly 5:30 p.m. earlier? If the last thing I remember with Dr. Cox yelling at me is true than that would mean I had been unconscious for almost 24 hours. Of course, that still doesn't explain the smell of Frito Pie…

_Oh… Frito Pie…_

"JD? Are you all right? You look a little green…"

Green? Oh, jeezus, I think I'm going to be sick.

The dark splotches are back and they're making me queasy.

"JD? Um… Maybe I should go get Elliot…or Dr. Cox…?"

"No." I shake my head, the movement lost in my blurry, headache-induced vision. "I'm all right. I'll see you later Doug, I gotta go…"

Doug's saying something to my back but I'm no longer listening to his insane ramblings of nervousness and worriment, instead though I'm speeding off down the halls looking for the nearest men's room. I know there's one if I go down the stairs but I don't think I'll be able to make it down without falling onto my face, and there's no way I'm waiting in an elevator. So I continue my speed walk until I finally spot a bathroom.

Thank goodness: It's empty.

I take a total of three steps before I crash down to my knees, vaguely shutting and latching the door behind me, and hurl right into the porcelain bowl in front of me. I screw my eyes shut as I hunch over the toilet like it's my only life support and attempt to shield my nose as I retch and retch until the only thing I'm letting loose is bile. I remember eating a lot today (a chocolate pancake, a bowl of cereal, a piece of toast, Carla's special cookies, Laverne's candies, some hotdogs for lunch, fries) but it doesn't seem like my stomach is holding much.

How weird.

When the last round of sickness passes I, with great effort, lift my hand up and flush away the nasty fluid that fills my vision before its swirled away. I take a few deep breaths and settle my sweat-drenched forehead against the cold porcelain in front of me. For a moment it fills me with a bit of comfort, but than something catches the corner of my eyes–

Shoes. White tennis shoes.

I'm busted.

"JD"

Oh, shit… He has the most impeccable timing of any human being I have ever known. Plus he called me JD. I don't think I like it when he calls me JD, it just doesn't seem right coming out of his mouth. I'm always either Newbie or whatever girl's name floats through his mind. That's all I want to be.

"JD"

Has he said anything besides my name? Is he even really there? Maybe it's all in my imagination; that wouldn't really surprise me one bit. A part of me is hoping this is all part of my imagination, but I don't think a nightmare lasts this long. I think even a nightmare has a time limit and, if it's not a nightmare, that's how you know. It's past the time limit; that's how I know. Of course, that doesn't mean I'm not still stuck in a nightmare–and I don't care how crazy or delusional that sounds.

"Get you ass out here _now_, Tia."

That's better. A girl's name.

With strength I didn't realize possessed, especially after my sick-excursion, I pushed myself up to my feet, shaky legs and all, and leaned against the stall door as another wave of nausea came and past over me. Taking a few more deep breaths, I nod my head and turn on my heel to walk out the door and face the music of a Dr. Cox lecture, only to be greeted with a Sacred Heart toothbrush and a bottle of red mouth wash.

"Wash up," Dr. Cox ordered, pointing to the sink.

If I didn't feel so gross I think I would've been embarrassed.

Or…at least…_more _embarrassed_…_

Snatching the toothbrush and mouth wash from Dr. Cox, trying to ignore his piercing gaze digging into my back, I walk up to the sink and immediately begin to wash the nasty, bile taste from my mouth. The mouth wash helps a lot and when I'm done I feel a whole lot better. Looking into the mirror makes me cringe though and I hastily water my face down. Black bags and red eyes… Odd how a black eye isn't showing though, I thought Dr. Cox punched me in the _face_.

Turning, my eyes moving to the ground, I lean against the sink behind me and eye my own shoes, looking up only when my mentor lets out a grunt that could scare any wild animal. I swear, stem came out of his nose! His form in front of me is blotchy and I have a hard time focusing on it.

"Y-you…" I clear my throat. "You wanted to see me?"

"Just when the hell are you doing out of bed? You've got a damned _concussion_."

"Didn't think I hit _that_ hard; Doug said I hit the wall but I thought I just got knocked in the face when you hit me and–"

"_Excuse me?"_

"Oh. Sorry…" I blink uncertainly and cringe as he moves closer to my face. "I forgive you…?"

"Forgive me, Tia? _I did not hit you_."

"What're you talking about?" I frown. It's just like him to lie about this. "Whatever. Look, I've gotta check on my patient. Doug said I was out for over 30 minutes so that test I ordered should be back by now…"

"Test? Newbie…" He arches a brow. "Your patient was discharged a while ago. You didn't order any test."

"Of course I did. I mean, wasn't that why you were yelling at me?"

"Yelling?"

"It's kinda hard to forget, but I guess it's hard to– Hey! What're you doing?"

Dr. Cox grabs me by the shoulders and whips out a flashlight pen, shining it directly into my eyes. He mutters a few incoherent sentences to himself and lets out a string of curses that makes me wince.

"Come 'ere," he growls angrily, grabbing me by the shoulder–

"Ow! Shit, what the hell…?" I snatch my arm away from him and roll my sleeve up…

White bandages? What the hell? When did I get that?

"Is this from when I hit the wall?" I question Dr. Cox. "I knew I bruised like a peach but…"

Dr. Cox frowns and shakes his head before tugging me out of the bathroom and into the hallway. Almost immediately I'm greeted by Carla and Elliot as they fawn over me and paw at every inch of my body. I flinch and attempt to swat them away but they are so incessant that I can't even get a word in before Dr. Cox whistles sharply in my ear and yells at them to back off. Elliot's eyes widen at her sudden realization to see Dr. Cox standing there and she discreetly shields herself behind Carla, who glares at Dr. Cox but stands down too.

"What the hell were you thinking Bambi? I came in to check on you and you were gone!"

I frown. What's she making such a big deal out of this for?

"I just got punched…"

"Punched…? Bambi–"

Dr. Cox rolls his eyes and intervenes, "He doesn't remember."

"Really?" Elliot takes a step closer to me but I, instinctively, step back. "Really, JD? You don't remember?"

Now I'm even more confused. What does he mean I don't remember?

I'm fine.

"I remember everything perfectly," I say, frowning, growing slightly angry. "Dr. Cox was yelling at me because Mr. Smith coded and I was telling him how you," I looked to Elliot, "were there to save him. He's fine, isn't he? Now, come on, I really gotta see Mr. Radin's test to see if I need to call him. He went AMA and I was…" I trail off. They're all looking at me like I'm some sort of freak. "What…? What's wrong?"

Dr. Cox says nothing. Carla stares, wide-eyed.

Elliot's eyes glaze over. "Mr. Radin…?"

"What?" I question, frantic. "Did he die? Shit! Man, I knew I should've stayed with him when he–"

"JD," Shit. Even Carla? What happened to being Bambi? "JD, what day is it?"

"Day? Carla, when do I even know that answer?"

"_Think_, Newbie," Dr. Cox asserts. "Use that mass you call a brain and answer the damned question."

"Okay. Let's see… Yesterday was Soup and Yogurt Day in the café so that means it's… What? Wednesday?"

Elliot's eyes glaze over. "Oh, JD… Oh, JD… Mr. Radin? Oh, JD…"

I turn to Carla and point offhandedly to Elliot. "What's with her? She's acting _weird_."

"JD!" I turn and see Turk running down the hall. He skids to a stop next to me and pats my back. "Man, I heard from a nurse who heard from a nurse who heard from a resident that you got up and came as soon as I heard." He laughs, not really noticing the confused look I'm shooting him. "You all right now, man? The patient who tossed you got discharged a few minutes ago but he asked me to apologize–"

"Tossed me?" I frown. "I got tossed? By a patient?"

Oh… My head is killing me now. All this information…

_Jeezus…_

Dr. Cox frowns. "He thinks I punched him."

Turk laughs. _"You? _Yeah, right!"

"What happened…?" I question, hating this feeling of confusion. "Did somebody die or something?"

Turk frowns now. "Die? Man, all the guy had was a dislocated joint. I don't think anybody's died from that."

"Dislocated…? What…?" I stumble backwards, finally noticing how crowded the hallway was with Dr. Cox, Carla, Elliot, and Turk surrounding me. They look at me and frown. "Nobody died…then what… Guys, this isn't funny… What…?" I gulp. "Did something happen to Mr. Smith? Mr. Radin?"

"Mr. Radin?" Turk's eyes turn dark and he eyes me. "What are you talking about?"

"Didn't you say you were going to get the results of his test? Did they come back?"

I blink.

Everything's blurry. The forms in front of me are gone and I can't tell who's who.

Voices…

Turk: Holy shit! Does he not…?

Elliot: No. It's probably from the concussion.

Turk: Dammit! Why didn't you tell me? I go and blab about that stupid–

Dr. Cox: It's just beautiful observation, Gandhi! Just _terrific _for a man of you profession when I though all surgeons were supposed have keen skills in this sort of nature of work. I mean it's just wonder that I can understand the skill level of the people in this hospital who–

Carla: Shhh!

Elliot: JD? Are you all right…?

Dr. Cox: Of course he's not Barbie.

Carla: JD…? JD, look at me…

I stumble again and my back hits the wall. I'm dizzy all of the sudden and I push all my weight against the white plaster behind me just to hold me up. I think I'm shaking because Dr. Cox grabs my shoulder and Elliot moves to take hold of my hand.

"JD?" Elliot squeezes my hand.

"I'm fine…" I say, my voice squeaking. "Just a bit dizzy…"

"_Johnny?!"_

I'm screwed. I'm confused. I'm sick.

Hell, I'm _everything_!

What the hell is Dan doing here? Of all people…

My vision darkens and I feel myself falling.

Dr. Cox's arms wrap around my waist and the fall to the ground is a lot softer than it probably should've been. My head rolls to the side and buries deep into the warm section of my mentor's white coat as he coaxes me into a sense of comfort.

"I gotcha, Newbie. I gotcha… Come on now… I gotcha…"

XXXXXXXX

XXXXXXXX

"_Newbie? Come on, Newbie. I gotcha… Come on… It's over. It's alright…"_

"_JD? JD, man, you alright?"_

"_Give him some room. Let him breathe."_

"_JD? JD, come on and get up. Let me see your arm JD, you're bleeding."_

"_Did he do anything besides that?"_

"_Speak up, JD. We need to check you out. Are you hurt?"_

"_Okay…well, we're going to admit you anyway JD and we'll give you a private room."_

"_We've got you…"_

"_You'll be alright, Bambi."_

"_Just a little scratch."_

"_It's going to be okay…"_

_I blink. "N-No it's not."_

XXXXXXXX

XXXXXXXX

When I open my eyes I'm lying on one of the hospital beds with my head pounding mercilessly against my very brain. My head jerks to the side a few times as the fingers peeling my eyelids back shine a light in my eye, temporarily blinding me, but it soon goes away as I let out a mangled whine. I screw my eyes shut against the intense pain.

"Is he up?" Somebody, a familiar voice, questions. "H-he's waking up, right?"

"Just wait a minute."

"Oh… Oh, jeezus, okay… Johnny? Little brother, you okay?"

_Johnny? Little brother?_

Oh, sweet holy figure. What in the hell is Dan doing here?

I hope he doesn't have a cake…

"His hand twitched! I'm sure it did, and he's doing that jerky thing with his head and lip that–"

"Calm down."

"_You_ calm down, Coxy. Figures you wouldn't be sympathetic about this. I mean, you're just happy it happened because it gives you even more bait to put him down and make him hate himself. That's probably why he's losing his mind. Dammit. See what you do to him?"

Shit. Shut _up_, Dan!

Why in the world does he _always _have to talk to my _mentor _like _that_?

"D-Dan?"

I blink my eyes wearily as the two hazy figures of Dr. Cox and Dan come into view. The lights above me do a number on my aching head though and I have to squint and turn to the side just to stop my pounding headache from increasing.

"Turn off the lights, would you?"

"Oh! Okay. Lights! Lights! Lights!" The bed jumps and I guess that Dan was previously sitting on it. "Okay, little brother. You good now? You all right?"

Turning my eyes, letting my eyelids relax, I nod my thanks and question, "What're you doing here?"

Dan looks around for a second, almost as if not believing the question was aimed at him. He turns back to me and raises a brow in concern, "You called me remember? It was early this morning–"

I interrupt, "I did?"

"Yeah. I said I'd be late…?"

I don't remember. I don't remember. I don't remember.

I don't remember!

"Are you sure?" I question. "Maybe it was the wrong number?"

"Come on, Johnny, you told me about what happened that day with your patient and the roof and the knife…?"

"Knife? What the hell are you talking about Dan?"

I watch as Dan's face turns from concerned to angry.

"What the hell JD? Is this some kind of joke to you? I hitch a ride as early as 5 a.m., in the _snow_, with strangers who may be _serial killers _just to come here after lying to Mom and blowing off some job from this guy back home at my bar? You've gotta be kidding me. This is the _dumbest, lame-ass _thing you've ever done to me and, man I gotta tell you; you've done some pretty _shitty _things since–"

I sunk about a quarter into my bed as Dan ranted and raved about his excursions of riding with some motorcycle gang of around 50 members and his bus ride where he had to sit next to some smelly foreign guy, a chick with excessive armpit hair, and a constipated chicken that liked to sit in his lap before I finally heard Dr. Cox intervene.

Thank goodness…

"HEY!" he yells, causing Dan to stop mid-rant and whip around. "Now I'm sure we'd just _love_ to sit here and listen to your _oh-so wonderful_ fairly tale of finding the love of your life on a–dark I say it–road trip brought on by your mid-life crisis, which just happens to hit you as your blowing out those 5 candles because, let's face it, blowing out the actual 45 is just a bit too much…"

There's nothing do to but stare at Dr. Cox as he trails off his rant.

Dan sighs heavily and sits at the foot of my bed, turning slightly in order to face me. He squeezes my knee, which is sitting over the bed covers, and frowns, nothing needed to be said as he apologizes about his rant with a simple look. I, in turn, nod to him easily.

"What happened?" I question finally, unable to take the immense silence.

"You called me," Dan says, unhelpfully. "Remember? You called me."

I frown and correct, "I called Mr. Radin this morning. He went AMA, remember Dr. Cox? Did his test results come back? I asked Turk to get them for me since he was heading up there already."

Dr. Cox frowns and drops into the chair near my right side, mumbling under his breath.

"W-What?" I question. "What'd I say? Is it his tests?" I look to Dr. Cox. "What's wrong?"

"You."

Now that's just rude.

"What's that supposed to mean?" I look down at myself and flex my hands in front of my face. No broken bones, no bruises, no red splotches, no spots, no dots, no pain besides this headache. "What happened? Why am I in this bed?"

Dan looks confused too. He turns to Dr. Cox.

"Answer him, dammit! Answer _me_! What the hell is up?"

Dan's face turns red again and I shrink back. It's freaky seeing Dan _this_ mad.

"Concussion," Dr. Cox states simply. "He doesn't remember."

"Concussion," I question. I bring up my hand and hold it to the back of my head, wincing as soon as it comes in contact. "No wonder my head hurts like I've been tossed into a brick wall."

"Window."

I look towards Dr. Cox. "What?"

"Tossed into a window," he corrects. "A brick wall and you'd probably be out longer, Newbie."

Dan frowns. "Concussion? That's bad, right?"

"Considering Tia threw up like an anorexic teenager… Yeah, I'd say it's bad," Dr. Cox says, sarcastically.

I shoot him a look and then turn back to Dan. "A concussion isn't _that_ bad."

He looks between the two of us, unsure of who to believe.

"So… What did happen? I mean, besides the whole being tossed into a window deal."

"What do you remember?" Dr. Cox questions, leaning back in his chair and folding his arms over his chest.

I frown and concentrate, feeling very exposed with Dr. Cox and Dan's eyes on me as I sit in a hospital bed. "Well… Just what I said. I remember coming back to ICU Room 122 and Laverne telling me she saw Mr. Radin up and leave, just like that. I had ordered a test and was waiting for the results and I went back into the room to look for his chart and then you barged in and started yelling at me about Mr. Smith and then…" I trail off. "Then it's blank."

"Mr. _Radin_? Man, Johnny, isn't that–"

"That's nobody," Dr. Cox asserted, interrupting Dan. "He'll remember on his own."

"What?" I question. "Remember _what_?"

Dan shakes his head and hops up from his position on the bed. "Listen, Johnny, I'll be right back. I just got here, almost 20 minutes ago, and I haven't eaten since yesterday afternoon. I'm going to head to the cafeteria and pick something up. Do you need something? Are you hungry?"

"No," I say at the same time Dr. Cox says, "Yes."

He glares at me. "I'm assuming you don't remember if you had anything today?"

"Apparently not," I reply. "I don't _feel _hungry. Honestly–"

"Doesn't mean you aren't," Dr. Cox bites back. "You're dangerously close to being dehydrated despite what you're blabbering on about, so Dan," he turns to my brother and orders, "pick up some sort of liquid replenishment and some energy bars from the market across the street."

Dan looks at me and I frown.

"You don't have to–"

"You do look like shit, Johnny," Dan interrupts. He flashes me a smile. "No problem running out to the store. Besides, I remember the food here and it is _not good_." He chuckles and turns. "I'll be back in ten minutes."

"Make if five," Dr. Cox growls without looking up, scribbling something on a chart–probably _my _chart.

Dan rolls his eyes and leaves, shouting behind him, "Five minutes Johnny! Promise!"

"_I– Are you sure…?"_

"_Jeezus, Johnny. I'll be there. I swear… Okay?"_

"_Okay."_

"_I love you."_

I blink. I turn. I frown.

What was that? Some sort of miniature flashback?

As my eyes travel around the room I suddenly find myself staring at the squinting brown eyes of Dr. Cox. He's looking at me with that weird expression again, the one I can't stand, and I'm not sure if he's disappointed, concerned, angry or all three. After a while I finally look away and sink back into the pillows behind my head. Dr. Cox stands and stays near the side of my bed.

I feel so stupid.

I'm lying on top of the bed covers still wearing my work clothes.

I feel so _naked_…so _exposed…_

Dr. Cox clears his throat, but I don't lower my eyes from the spot at which they've glued themselves to. He says, "You are my patient, but I'm still on my shift and there are other people that need to be checked on–"

"I don't need to be watched," I say harshly, before I can stop myself.

Surprisingly, Dr. Cox doesn't yell at me and he doesn't snap. He just nods to himself.

"Carla will be monitoring you soon. Try not to fall asleep because of that head wound. Clear?"

I'm not sure why, but my eyes begin to get misty and blur with unshed tears. My head snaps to the side and I stare listlessly out the window, watching the snow fall with slight surprise (when did it start snowing?) and numbness. For a second I think I feel his hand pass over my shoulder, but I brush the feeling off quickly and clench my fist in sudden anger.

"I'll be back later, Newbie."

I nod and watch Dr. Cox leave.

XXXXXXXX

XXXXXXXX

"_Seriously! I mean, what gives him the right to tell me how to treat my patients? It's been nearly six years and you'd think he'd understand by now that I can stand on my own two feet." My head falls down to my crossed arms, which are lying on the table in front of me, and I rest my forehead on them tiredly. "He's angry at me," I mumble," and I don't know why."_

"_Bambi…" Carla places a hand on my shoulder and attempts to brighten my mood with a smile. "You've been here six years and you should know that this is how Dr. Cox is. He still calls you 'Newbie' doesn't he? He acknowledges you and he trusts you, despite what he says."_

_I frown and shake my head. "He hasn't changed."_

_This time Carla laughs. I look up at her as she attempts to stifle her chuckles with the back of her petite hand._

"_What?" I question. "What's so funny?"_

"_You!" she exclaims once her chuckles die down. "You think Dr. Cox hasn't changed and he has! I mean, do you remember what happened the first year you worked here? He ran you ragged, treated you like a girl–or, at least, more of one than he does now–and he denied his position as your mentor. Do you see that now? Whether you see it or not, all Dr. Cox is doing is looking after you because he cares."_

"_Sure…" I shake my head but begin to perk up when I spot Turk entering the doctor's lounge and immediately greet, "Hey, Chocolate Bear!"_

"_What's up, Vanilla Bear?" Turk shoots back, grinning._

_Carla rolls her eyes at our antics. She thinks it's very childish that we refer to each other as flavored animals but I think she's just jealous because Turk and I have yet to come up with a nickname. Honestly, we've come up with a lot, but I'm afraid if I tell Carla she'll kick me or something._

"_How's Mr. Smith? I heard he had a good surgery."_

_Turk flexes and says, "Of course! Look who you got performing it!"_

"_Deflate the head, baby," Carla interrupts._

_Turk frowns and sags as he plops down at the table with us. He turns serious, for once, and says, "He has a broken leg and may have a limp for the rest of his life, but, other than that, he's alive. He told me to tell you thank you, as a matter of fact."_

"_For what? I treated him for like three minutes."_

"_He said you were with him when he was brought in, that you helped him stay conscious and alert and aware of what was going on. He said you made him feel better and safer." Turk shrugs. "You may have passed him onto Elliot, but he credits you for saving his life."_

"_Elliot's the one who revived him."_

"_Physically, Bambi," Carla said. "You probably helped him mentally."_

_I roll my eyes. "Well it's probably–"_

_SLAM._

_The door opens and I jump as it bangs into the wall._

"_You had better be on break Bobby Jo because there's a vomiting man out in the waiting room with your name on him." Dr. Cox fakes a smile and claps his hands jovially. "I can just see you two hitting it off! He's fifty, he's married, and he's got three kids in law school! You two will be lovers for life!" His smile falls as quick as his mood changes and he tosses a chart at my lap. "Get to it."_

"_But Dr. Cox I need to check on Mr. Radin's test results–"_

"_The man left AMA, Newbie; I'm pretty sure it wouldn't matter what the results will be. He's gone and you've got other patients to look after."_

_I look to Carla for help, but she just shrugs in response as Turk acts as if he's reading some medical book._

"_Look, Dr. Cox–"_

"_Uh-uh," Dr. Cox shakes his hand and waves his finger. "We're done here."_

_He leaves soon after and the lounge is once again back to Turk, Carla, and me._

"_Why are you obsessing over Mr. Radin's case? I mean, Dr. Cox is right, you've got other patients to treat."_

_I frown. "There's something off with him and I need to make sure…" I look up and question, "You're heading upstairs, right? To Dr. Frank?"_

"_Yeah, apparently some wacko needs a surgical consult because he got a carrot stuck up in there, if you know what I mean."_

_Carla shivers involuntarily and I let out a fake laugh._

_I have no idea what he means._

"_Well," I continue, "can you get the results for Mr. Radin's test for me while I check on this patient?"_

"_Sure. It may be a while though."_

"_No problem."_

XXXXXXXX

XXXXXXXX

"Okay, little brother, I'm back!" Dan shouts happily as he enters the room with two brown sacks in his hands and a gigantic smile plastering his face. As he walks in, heading towards me, he nods 'hello' to Carla, winks seductively to Elliot, and gives Turk a high-five. When he makes it to me he simply dumps out one of the brown sacks and allows a various array of health bars to fall into my lap.

Wiping the bars from my lap, I draw my legs up into an Indian-style position and lean back against the headboard as I allow my hands to paw through the various foods he'd bought. "Chocolate," I read one of the flavors before depositing it to my left and picking another one up. "Vanilla, peanut butter, lemon, peach, caramel, and non-flavored…" I trail off and cringe. "That's _disgusting_ man."

Dan simply shrugs as he plops down on the side of the bed, snatches up the lemon flavored health bar and opens it experimentally. He produces a yellow rectangular shaped food product and promptly bites a chunk out of the top. I fake-gag and Dan shrugs again. "Not bad." He pulls out an empty wrapper from his pocked and comments, "It's better than this sherbet flavored one I had on the way over here."

I wince in disgust.

"Stick with the chocolate," Turk says, nudging me. "You can't go wrong with chocolate."

I nod and rip open the wrapper and bite into it. _Incredibly _nasty, but it was probably better than those lemon and sherbet bars.

"Did you bring water," I question, coughing at the flavor.

Dan pokes into the other brown sack he brought with him and extracts two bottles, one clear and one green. "I got water but before I left Coxy told me you'd probably rather have ginger ale to settle your stomach." He shrugged and held them out. "Which one?"

I reach for the water bottle. "I guess–"

"Ginger ale," Carla interrupts, snatching the bottle and tossing it at me. I glare at her and she glares back. "For your stomach Bambi, you know how you get when you're sick. All cry–"

"_Punching_," I interrupt, nodding to Dan. "See, I punch people when I'm sick. _Manly_ anger, you know?"

Dan rolled his eyes.

"So…" I said, "What day is it? I'm guessing I was wrong before."

"Tuesday," Dan answered, scratching the back of his head, suddenly uncomfortable.

"That's odd. I'm missing almost a week of my life."

Elliot frowns. "It's not that bad. You'll remember everything soon."

"I don't see why you can't just tell me. I mean, if I know what that _everything _is than I'll probably remember it sooner rather than later."

"It'd be better if you didn't remember at all," Turk muttered so softly that I probably wasn't even supposed to hear it.

I looked to him with wide eyes, expecting him to come up and deny what he said or, at least, cover it up, but he did no such thing and just turned away, frowning. Carla placed a worried hand on his shoulder but he just shrugged it off.

What the hell?

I furrow my eyebrows and question, "Remember _what_?"

"It's nothing." Elliot laughed through the uncomfortable tension, although she looked so damned close to tears. "We don't want to tell you because we think you should remember on your own."

"But _why_?" I questioned desperately. "What's so important that I have to remember it on my own? Don't I have the right to know what–" I jumped. My eyes looked to the side and I saw that Dan had moved placed his hand on my shoulder.

"Johnny, it's not something that you need to…" He stops and stares at me, suddenly confused. "Johnny? Johnny, what's wrong?"

His hand was on my shoulder. My shoulder…

My _right _shoulder.

XXXXXXXX

XXXXXXXX

_I recently figured out that Dr. Kelso decided to close half of the left wing of the hospital for budgetary reasons. Supposedly it had to do with this big mess involving the hospital board and the under staff of nurses and doctors and that whole chaotic mix-up in the blood lab that had happened a few weeks ago–I'm not really sure; all the details are sketchy. Nobody really minded the change though, besides this wing wasn't used as much anymore since the free clinic was built. There were a few patient rooms and bathrooms, but it was basically just extra space. I heard from the gossip vine (aka Carla) that they were going to knock this wing down and make a bigger ambulance bay for the ER._

_Anyway, they barricaded the wing off and now it's this big, barren waste of a hall. It leads to the doctor's lounge–the one with the good coffee–and cuts the walk time in half so I usually duck under the yellow tape to get there quicker. It's a bit creepy walking down the hall alone though, and I force myself to stop every few seconds to make sure nobody's following me, but it's fairly safe–_

"_Ahhh–"_

_A hand lands on my shoulder and I jump around just in time to stare into the cold, green eyes of my AMA patient, Mr. Radin. He smiles sadistically at me as I grin confusedly, my head still spinning from surprise._

"_Mr. Radin," I attempt, conversationally, "I've been calling you since you took off. Did something come up?"_

"_They told me to leave," he whispered, as if it was the biggest secret in the world. "They told me it'd hurt like that needle."_

"_The one I took your blood with? That one Mr. Radin?"_

_He nods, distracted. "They told me you'd try it again and do some more things. Things that'd kill…"_

"_Kill? Mr. Radin I–"_

_He takes a step towards me and I take a step back. I gulp, suddenly frightened._

"_I told them it was stupid," he continued talking and taking steps, "and that you were a good doctor." Step. "Then I saw that thing you did with that little old lady, shocking her over and over and over again." Step. "It was horrible. I was wrong. They said they were right and I believed them. They were right." Step. "They told me what to do…"_

"_Mr. Radin, I don't think there's a "they". That's just in your head. Here, look, I'll just call in," gingerly, I pulled out my pager, "and we'll get you into a nice, warm bed for you. How does that sound– Ahhh!"_

_He slapped my hand and my pager went flying across the dark hall, shattering into pieces._

"_No calling." A silver glint caught my eyes and I gulped. "Come on…"_

_He gripped my right shoulder, hard, and pushed me forward and as I attempted to walk in front of the knife that slowly pressed against my back._

XXXXXXXX

XXXXXXXX

Oh… God, my _head_…

"Johnny? Johnny… Wake up. Come on, little brother…"

My eyes quickly unglazed at the sound of the familiar voice and soon I found myself staring up at the very concerned face of Dan; he had his hands on my shoulders and was shaking me roughly. When he notices me staring up at him with clear eyes his face breaks out into a grin and he sags noticeably, but his grip on me doesn't loosen in the slightest. As I moan underneath the pressure he has on me though Dan finally scrambles off and chuckles nervously after muttering a meek apology.

Dr. Cox walks up to me and pulls out a penlight before shining it into my eyes. He mutters under his breath than forcefully pushes my head down and prods the back of my head. I hiss angrily and attempt to push away, but Dr. Cox has a good hand on me. He gets up soon and nods to himself.

He stuffs his hands in his pocket and questions, "You all right there, Newbie?"

I nod from my lying position on the bed. In the back I can see Elliot, Turk, and Carla looking to me worriedly.

I frown.

I hate this sympathy. I hate this worriment.

I hate it all.

Dr. Cox clears his throat, causing my eyes to travel back to his, and he says one word:

"Remember?"

And I nod.


	6. My Symptoms

**My Symptoms**

"_MTBI, Concussion, most likely a grade five."_

_I nod. I know._

_This isn't something I really want to hear either, but it is protocol for doctors to tell their patients what said-patient's condition is. I'm pretty sure it's some legal mumbo-jumbo that has to do with protecting a doctor's defense if somebody sues them though, I maintain, if a patient does sue Sacred Heart we'd probably lose just because this hospital is too cheap to afford a good, solid lawyer–meaning no offence to Ted. Dan is in the room though, so I guess Dr. Cox isn't wasting his breath explaining what a concussion is on me. At least now, later, Dan probably won't ask me to translate half the things Dr. Cox says. He's actually listening intently; I think it's amazing how interested he is._

"_What's that mean?" he questions. "MTBI?"_

_Dr. Cox looks to me to fill in the blanks for Dan, but I return his stare blankly. This is his job._

"_Mild traumatic brain injury," Dr. Cox replies. I can tell he's angry with me but trying not to show it because of Dan. "Sounds worse than it is," he continues as Dan bites back a slight gasp at the words 'brain injury'. "A concussion is the least serious type of MTBI."_

"_What about grade five?"_

"_Considering Sam–" Dr. Cox cuts off at Dan's glare, the one and only time he will, and says instead, "Considering JD was unconscious for longer than 10 minutes he is medically considered a grade five type concussion as apposed to one, two, three and four."_

_I can tell he was being sarcastic with the types of concussions, but I don't think Dan caught on._

"_So… What happens now?"_

"_Now I have to explain all the symptoms to you and then JD can go home."_

_I look up this time. Finally, something catches my interest._

"_All right… Well, I'm guessing loss of consciousness and the slight memory loss construes as symptoms."_

"_Dizziness will show mostly, a headache probably accompanying it…"_

XXXXXXXX

XXXXXXXX

The world spins as I stop mid-step and clutch my hand against the railing of the stairwell just as my stomach lurches and I watch helplessly as black dots begin to form before my very eyes. My feet, stilled to an abrupt stop, stumble slightly as the toe of my shoe hits the step in front of me and I flail about as an attempt to catch myself before my other hand reaches out the clutch the railing on the other side of me. I must look like an idiot. I'm holding myself up by having my arms stretched out to either side of me, my knees, wobbling, just barely hitting the step below me.

"Johnny?" Dan attentively calls out from a flight or two about me. "You all right? I heard you cry out."

I wish I could blame Dan for my near face plant, but I can't, I was the one who shoved him away when he tried to take my arm in order to help me up the stairs when we figured out that the elevator was out of service. He hasn't heard me yell much so I think I might've surprised him with that sort of tone of voice.

I grunt and push myself up, grounding my feet as my hands focus on the rail to the right before yelling out, "I'm fine!"

Dan seems less than convinced and I lift my head to find his face staring down at me over the banister. He doesn't say anything though, but this time decides to wait as I slowly, but surely, catch up to him at the second floor. This time he tries to be subtle about worrying for me and my uneasiness and, trying to save myself embarrassment, walks two flights, stops, waits for me, walks two flights, stops, waits for me, and keeps doing that repeatedly.

"Saving my energy," he says, flashing me a grin as he pretends to catch his breath on the fourth floor. "I need to exercise more, little brother, I'm outta shape!"

I simply roll my eyes, but watch as he rushes up another two flights.

Right now, I shouldn't be worrying about Dan. Right now, I need to focus on climbing these damn steps.

There are two flights before every floor. We're currently on the first flight after the fourth floor and Turk, Carla, and I live on the tenth floor, so that means I just have 14 more flights to go. Of course, than you have five or six steps on each flight and you have about 74 more steps to go up…

You know… Right now, maybe I shouldn't be worrying about how long it is.

Maybe I should worry about this thumping headache.

THUMP. THUMP. THUMP.

"Johnny…? Johnny, you all right?"

THUMP. THUMP. THUMP.

"JOHNNY!"

THUMP. THUMP. THUMP.

My feet slip and–

"_Bambi!_"

Carla catches me.

It's an odd sight to see, true, but she really did get me before I could fall backwards. Her hands wrap protectively around my waist as she struggles to keep us both standing before Dan finally manages to slip out of his shock and forces me to lean against him. Carla is shooting him the fiercest glare she can muster as she fixes her hair and straightens.

"I was outside maybe five minutes! What the hell happened?" she demands from Dan. "You should be watching him. He has a _concussion_!"

Dan just looks down, not saying anything.

"Bambi," she scolds me, "why didn't you let him help you? You could've fallen!"

I mutter a meek apology and frown, knowing this would calm Carla down. Carla can't resist my big, doe eyes.

After a while she clicks her tongue and shakes her head, smiling. She ducks underneath my arm and coaxes me to lean against her as she and Dan guide me up the rest of the stairs.

XXXXXXXX

XXXXXXXX

_Turk knocks at the door and I immediately brighten at the sight of my Chocolate Bear as I usher him in with a cheerful smile on my face, mirroring his own. I swear no matter what the situation is I can always count on Turk to brighten me up. He greets me enthusiastically and, when his eyes flicker over to the chart posted at the foot of my bed, he grabs it when I nod my approval. Dr. Cox probably wouldn't like it, but he's not here right now and I really want to know what he wrote. Turk sits in Dan's vacated chair at my right and props his feet up on top of my bed._

"_Man," he says, flipping up the silver chart cover, "Cox has horrible penmanship."_

_I look to him, cocking my head. "He's had you as a surgical consult how many times and you never noticed?"_

"_Never looked at it this intently before," Turk shrugs. "Look! He's even got your medical records in here!"_

"_Probably looking at my other scars," I say, flexing sarcastically. "Ladies love scars."_

"_Ladies love tattoos. They can't stand scars; it's the story how they got the scar that gets them."_

_Deflating, I ignore his comment and instead question, "So, what's it say?"_

"_Your medical records?" he questions, flipping through the onion-thin pages. "Not much."_

"_Come on," I say. "What'd Cox put on for me besides the medical records?"_

"_MTBI, concussion, loss of consciousness: 10 minutes, temporary memory loss," Turk lists. "The usual junk…" He shuts the chart and tosses it on the bed before leaning back in his chair with his hands behind his head. "Where'd Dan go?"_

"_He's bringing the car around front."_

"_Leaving already?"_

_I nod. "Yeah, Dan's giving me a ride home."_

"_Johnny!" Dan calls, knocking on my door, stopping Turk and mine's conversation. He spots me still in bed, in hospital garb, and frowns. "You aren't ready yet?"_

_I stretch and make to get up. "Lemme get to my locker and change first. It'll only take a second."_

_Dan shrugs. "Do you have a bag?"_

"_Why?" I question, frowning._

"_There's no way you're throwing up in my car, little brother. It's rented and I can't afford to reupholster anything."_

"_Throwing up…?" Turk questions, whispering to me._

"_Dan's taking these symptoms a bit too seriously…"_

XXXXXXXX

XXXXXXXX

Dan jumps onto the couch and picks up the remote, clicking on the television. Carla gives him a nasty glare as she attempts to help me get my backpack off, but I swat her hands away and soon she lets out a huff and moves to take a seat at the table in the kitchen. I may have had a concussion, I may have almost fell down the stairs a few minutes ago, but I am not an invalid, I don't need her help all the time. Still, I can feel her eyes digging into my back as I finally manage to swing my bag off my stiff body and hang it up on the hook near the door. I turn and smile my apology to Carla for refusing her concern.

"Maybe you should lie down, Bambi." Carla suggests, returning my smile easily. "You've had a long day."

I'm just about to take her up on that offer when Dan pipes up, turning around to peer over the back of the couch. "No way, little brother! You're going to park it right here on this couch so I can watch you!"

"Watch me?" I question. "What for? I'm not a child, Dan."

Dan rolls his eyes. "Coxy told me your memory loss might come back. He also said that your condition might result in some erratic behavior, so he told me to watch you. Beside, you really shouldn't sleep after that knock to the head. I may not have gone to medical school, but that's common sense."

Carla glowers, "I was going to check on him." I think she's offended that Dan doesn't trust her opinion. She turns to me and says, "You can lie down if you want to Bambi, it's no trouble–"

"Sit!" Dan interrupts, patting the cushion next to him.

I frown, looking from Carla to Dan and then back to Carla again. It's not as if I want to disappoint either of them. Looking at Carla, I smile uneasily as I slowly make my way towards the seat next to Dan, who is smiling triumphantly.

"I'm not that tired," I try to explain to Carla, who flashes a hurt look that leaves her face as quick as it was there. "I'll go lie down later, after I watch some television, okay?" She nods, forcing a smile. "Besides," I look over to Dan with a smile, "I seem to remember a Cheers marathon on tonight!"

Dan lets out a delightful whoop and Carla groans.

Carla eventually decides to stay up with us, probably just to watch me, and goes to make hot chocolate with extra marshmallows, my favorite.

Soon Carla, Dan, and I snuggle up on the couch underneath one big wool blanket holding various mugs of hot cocoa in our hands, watching the Cheers marathon on TV. Carla buried in my side, refusing to sit next to Dan, actually gets into the quick humor of Cheers and hums along to the theme song. Dan is on my other side, arm swung over my shoulders, outright singing the theme song as he ignores the whip cream lining his mouth. He mouths the words of each episode with me when Carla gets angry with us doing it aloud.

"Oh! Look at that, Bambi!" I follow her finger and turn my eyes to the commercial on the TV. "It's a commercial for that new restaurant! Laverne went their and she said they make the best steak in town. We should go there sometime with Elliot and Turk," Dan clears his throat so Carla adds, "and Dan…"

Dan pats his stomach and sips his cocoa. "Mmhhm! Look at that baked potato! You know, I may just take you up on that offer Carla!"

"Offer? That wasn't an offer!"

"I'm _your_ guest."

"You're JD's guest. If he wants to pay for your meal, fine, but Turk and I sure as hell aren't!"

"Well, aren't you a rude one!"

"You're lucky you're Bambi's brother, or else you'd be out of a bed!"

"I've got a couch!"

"Better than the street!"

I can't really pay attention to Dan and Carla's _playful _banter or else I would've intervened, especially since they're talking across me like I'm some kind of invisible wall, but that's only because my eyes are suddenly centered on the television in front of me watching the same scene play over and over again in my mind. That one scene…_oh…_it goes so slow…that baked potato, some unseen person pouring a white splash of gravy, scattering it with melted cheese as the heat lines wave out from it…

Oh… My stomach…

My stomach lurches uncomfortably as I slowly lower my mug onto the coffee table in front of me. All my movements are painfully slow as I take the wool blanket in my hand and throw it off Dan, Carla, and I and drop it to the floor as I stand up, my knees wobbling from sitting on the couch for so long. I swallow whatever has clogged up my throat, and walk towards the restroom.

"Bambi…?"

"Hey, little brother, what's wrong?" Dan stands and takes my shoulder, looking at my face. I think I've begun to sweat. "Are you gunna to lie down now, Johnny? You don't looks so hot…"

I stare at him and say mechanically, "I'm going to throw up now."

Dan, surprised, stands there in a stupor as I continue across the room, open the bathroom door, drop to my knees, and promptly throw up the health bars and hot cocoa that had currently been stewing in my stomach. My hands ball up into fists on the cold tile floor below me, holding me up, as I squeeze my eyes shut and heave out the nastiness coming up. I stop, shortly, suddenly very weak and I think I would've fell face first into the toilet bowl if Dan wasn't there to take my shoulders.

"Easy Johnny," he whispers, comfortingly. "Easy…"

As soon as I start up again Dan begins to look lost as Carla takes over for him, rubbing circles in my back and holding my sweat-matted hair away from my face. She orders Dan to get her a cold washcloth and soon begins to wipe my face, continually whispering sweet nothings into my ear.

When I'm done with this round, I look over my shoulder and find Dan sitting down against the bathtub behind Carla, ready to jump in if Carla gets tired. He catches my eye and flashes me a grim smile and winks. It's odd to see these two being so in tune with each other after just fighting moments earlier. I guess that's what happens, though, people just forget the petty stuff when something more important happens…

That's nice to know… I'm important…

XXXXXXXX

XXXXXXXX

_I kick my shoes away, I tug my scrubs pants off and put on my jeans, I pull my scrubs top off and slip on my white undershirt and my gray hoody, and then I snag my sandals from the top shelf of my locker and wriggle them on. I'm dressing fast because of this locker room, that's all. Not because I don't want Dan to wait too long, not because I'm trying to avoid exiting the hospital without seeing Dr. Kelso and, most likely, Ted, but because of this locker room. It has absolutely no privacy and you can never be sure if somebody is going to barge in on you half-naked. So, see? I'm not dressing fast because I'm trying to avoid somebody. _

_I'm not. Seriously. _

_Though…also I'm trying not to look at myself while I'm dressing. I already know I look a sight; I already look completely damned. I don't need to see that in detail again. I don't think I could handle it. I'm sure I look worse off then I did since I looked before though; it's not hard to figure that out. I've hit the wall, I've got a concussion, I've slept on and off for the past four hours, and I've been fed about fifteen health bars. Geezus, this is one messed up day. _

_Phew! Okay… Rewind. Back up. _

_Focus. _

_Shaking my head from such thoughts, I turn back toward the bin near the exit and throw my dirty scrubs in before moving back towards my locker and placing my work shoes onto the top shelf, where my sandals once were. I then take my cell phone and house keys–Sasha is still in the body shop–and place them in my front pocket and my wallet in my back. Finally, I shoulder my backpack and shut the locker door–Shit! _

_Damn it. How the hell does he do that? Just pop out of nowhere like that… _

"_Dr. Cox…" _

_After his name I can't get anything else out of my mouth so I close it up and turn away, ashamed. I was going to ask him what he was doing here, but that didn't seem right, and then I was going to ask him how long he was standing there, but that made me sound too paranoid. _

"_Jeezus, Pricilla," Dr. Cox sneers, "don't just stand there like your cat just died." _

_I look up to him and frown. _

"_Where's your sister?" _

_I cock my head, confused. "Sister…?" _

_Dr. Cox rolls his eyes. "Danielle." _

_Sister? Danielle? _

_Oh! Dan! _

"_Dan's in the car. He came in to get me but I wasn't ready so he's waiting with the car in the ambulance bay making sure it doesn't get towed," I say, shifting uncomfortably on my feet. When Dr. Cox doesn't comment, I say, "It's a rental. He doesn't have insurance and he's worried–" _

"_I get it," Dr. Cox interrupts. _

_Throw me a friggin' bone! I never understand the difference between what he "gets" and what he finds annoying. Well, actually, he did have a list of things he hated and/or found annoying… What was it again? _

_Low carb diets, Michael Moore, the Republican National Convention, Kabbalah and all Kabbalah-related products, Hi-Def TV, the Busch daughters, wireless hotspots, the OC, the UN, recycling, getting Punk'd, Danny Gans, the Latin Grammys, the real Grammys, Jeff that Wiggle that sleeps too darn much, the Yankees payroll, all the red states, all the blue states, every hybrid car, every talk show, everything on the planet, everything in the solar system, everything, everything, everything, everything, everything, everything, every-everthing that exists past present and future, in discovered and undiscovered dimensions…and Hugh Jackman. _

_Oh… then he later added any white guy how adds -izzle to their sentence. _

"_Newbie!" _

"_Ye-izzle?" I say dumbly, snapping out of my stupor. I shake me head once I realize what I said. "I-I mean… Did you say something?" _

_Dr. Cox touches his nose and crosses his across his chest. That's never a good sign. _

"_Pay attention, Newbie," he says. "I'm not telling you all this just to listen to my own voice." _

_Could've fooled me. _

"_Telling me what…?" _

_He rolls his eyes. Guess I zoned out earlier than I thought. _

_I frown, trying to make up for not listening. "You all ready told me all the symptoms and I'm sure Dan asked you to explain everything thousands of times. I am a doctor; I can take care of myself." _

"_This has nothing to do with whether you can take care of yourself, Sheila. You have two weeks off. No working." _

_WHAT? _

"_Dr. Cox…" _

"_You're not getting out of this one, Newbie," he says, uncrossing his arms and putting his hands into his pockets. "Kelso already signed up for it. He thinks you're a danger to patients in your current condition–" _

"_Wait!" I say, louder than necessary, suddenly angry. "Kelso told you this. You corrected him, right? I mean, I was shadowing you all day and you should've told him my progress. I'm fine." _

_Dr. Cox frowns. _

_Why is he frowning? Is it me? Did I do this? Did I say something? _

_Am I ranting? _

"_You are not fine," he says, calmly. "All the procedures were all well and done, Newbie, but the physical stuff was off. You didn't connect with patients like you usually do and you're not in the same mind frame. You're off in such a way that it could be a danger to yourself and your patients." _

"_You mean this?" I point to my head. "This concussion. That comes with the job! It could've happened to you, Carla, Elliot… Anybody! I didn't hurt any patients either. I would never hurt any patients!" _

"_Just because you say that doesn't mean it'll necessarily be like that." _

"_I keep my word, Dr. Cox." _

_He nods. "I know you do, Newbie. Regardless, you're still off." _

_I whip around, facing my locker, and bang my head against the metal door. _

"_Dammit." BANG "Dammit." BANG "Dammit" BANG _

_Pulling away, holding my suddenly aching head, I curse. _

"_Not a good idea after a concussion, Katie," Dr. Cox says, shaking his head. He walks up to me and pulls me away from the lockers and tosses me out the door towards the nurse's station. He spots Carla and waves her over. "You're off?" he questions. Carla nods. I know where this is going. "Katie and Danielle are on their way home too. Follow them so the asshole doesn't do anything stupid." _

"_Dan's not that dumb," I say in Dan's defense. _

_Dr. Cox says nothing, but lets go of my wrist and growls, so I turn to Carla. _

_She laughs. "He was talking about you." _

"_Oh…"_

"_Anyway, Bambi, I talked to Elliot and I decided you're staying with Turk and I for a while."_

_I frown. "What for?"_

"_So I can keep an eye on you, of course." Carla leans against her charts and winks at me. "Besides, Elliot is busy with Keith and I want to make sure you're looked after for the time being. You aren't living with us, I understand that, but your old room is still the way it is."_

"_No bed then?"_

"_When Turk and I got a new bed we put the old mattress in your room. You can sleep on that."_

"_What about Dan?"_

_Carla grimaces. I know how she feels about Dan._

"_H-He can stay on the couch." She nods. The discussion is over and I won't be able to change it. "Do you need a key?"_

"_Already got one," I say. When Carla looks at me strangely I defensively state, "Turk gave me an extra in case of emergencies."_

_She rolls her eyes. "Okay, just let me get my stuff–"_

"_You really don't have to follow us home," I say, watching Carla duck under the counter to grab her purse. "Dan and I can make it. Why don't you just stay here and wait until Turk gets off."_

"_For four hours?" Carla shakes her head. "Nuh-uh. I need a hot bubble bath." She looks me up and down and says, "So do you." _

_I frown, refusing to respond. _

_Carla comes out from behind the desk and takes my arm, dragging me out the door. "Come on, Bambi, you're so pale…" _

XXXXXXXX

XXXXXXXX

I shiver in embarrassment, my cheeks heating, and turn on my side, away from the noisy figures in the doorway of Carla and Dan. Moments ago I had just managed to pick myself up off the bathroom floor and, flushing the toilet as I stood up, I made it stumbling back to my room without landing on my face. I feel that's a very big accomplishment, but, by Dan and Carla's tone, I think this doesn't do them enough justice to leave me alone. Whatever. It's not like I care, I can ignore them easily.

"Bambi," Carla's hand lands on my forehead and I jump slightly. She pulls away for a second; giving me time to adjust, before placing her hand back into place. "You're burning up," she says. "Sit up. Have some water."

"I'm fine."

I'm lying. I feel awful.

"You just spent ten minutes throwing up," Carla responds. "You're not fine. Sit up."

"Mostly dry heaving; that doesn't count."

"Bambi…"

I give in. I always give in; especially to Carla.

She helps me into a sitting position and props me up with three pillows set behind my back. Next, she hands me a small cup from the bathroom filled with red mouthwash and tells me to spit into the bowl that she's holding. _Jeezus_. At least Turk and Dan were subtle about embarrassing me; Carla is just going right out with everything. Still, I do what she asks me to, refusing to look her in the eye. After I wash the throw up out of my mouth, I then am handed an ice cold water bottle.

"Here," Carla says, giving me two Advil, "for the headache and fever."

I gulp the contents greedily and, after a few more gulps than necessary, Carla snatches the bottle from my hands and puts it on my nightstand.

"I don't have a fever," I say, after a while.

"You're burning up. You're throwing up. You're as pale as a sheet of paper." Carla frowns. "You're sick."

"I'm not–"

Before I can finish my sentence Carla sticks a thermometer into my mouth and shoots me a warning glare to keep my mouth closed.

BEEP! BEEP! BEEP!

My hand barely makes it half-way to my mouth before Carla pulls the white instrument from my mouth.

"103.5," she reads before flashing it in my direction. "You've got a fever." She starts pulling my covers down but I pull them right back up. "Bambi, you need to take these covers off. We need to try and bring down your temp."

"It's not too high," I complain, "and, besides, I'm _cold_."

Great. When did I start sounding so childish?

Carla lets go of the covers. "Fine, but in a few seconds you'll be sweating."

I stretch and close my eyes, going back into fetal position with my back to Carla and the door.

Carla huffs. She climbs on the bed, staying over the covers, and uses my back as her own personal backrest. Her head rests on my side and her hair begins to tickle my bare arms.

"Where's Dan?" I question, for once not minding the physical touch. "Did he go to sleep already?"

"He's cleaning your mess in the bathroom."

"I made a mess?"

"Not much. Mostly on the seat."

"Oh… Sorry…"

I feel Carla shrug against my back.

"Shouldn't you let me rest?" I question, turning my head slightly. "I am _sick_."

"You need the company," Carla responds shortly. She looks down at me and gives me a small smile. "I'll wait until you fall asleep."

"I can't sleep with you on my back."

"If you're really tired, you can."

I sigh and finally ask, bluntly, "What's wrong?"

Carla deflates against my back. "Dan was right before, you know. You shouldn't fall asleep with that kind of head injury. I know that, but you look so _exhausted_…"

"You can't blame yourself for me getting sick," I say, nearly laughing. "It's this concussion."

"You've lost so much weight…" Carla muses, her hand squeezing my side. I wince. She coos. "You haven't gone out with me and Turk since…" she trails off at this. "I think that's why you're so pale. No sunlight."

"It's December, winter. There's no sun."

"Elliot talked to Dan earlier and she said he told her that you called him at five o'clock in the morning, before your shift. Is that true?" My silence tells her everything, so she continues, "You haven't been sleeping, which explains your eyes."

"What about my eyes?"

"They're stretched, Bambi. Black bags…" I feel her shrug again. She's so helpless. "You aren't taking care of yourself."

"It's been six days. Not even a week. How can you even tell?"

I avoid lying to her and she knows it.

Carla shifts and wipes her petite hand across my forehead, moving my hair back away from my face.

"I'm not an idiot. I won't let it get too far."

"Well," I close my eyes as she continues caressing my hair," if Dr. Kelso has his way, I'll be _fixed_ in no time."

XXXXXXXX

XXXXXXXX

_Great, just plain, friggin' great… _

_Turning toward Dr. Kelso, and the impassive shell that is Ted, I look over Carla, who had strategically placed herself in front of me, and shoot a questioning glance in his direction. He's wearing a frown and holding his usually chart, probably filled with names of people he doesn't know but wants to think they think he knows, underneath his arm. Dr. Cox is standing behind him, his arms back folded across his chest, just waiting for the first person to break the silence. And, of course, it turns out to be– _

_HONK! HONK! HONK! _

–_Dan, as he starts banging the car horn. _

_I turn swiftly at the noise and, out of the corner of my eye, spot Dan hanging out the window of a red cruiser, which he's parked in the middle of the surgeon's basketball court. He's waving crazily and gesturing for me to hurry the hell up. "Johnny!" he yells. "Come on! It's getting dark and I don't want to hit traffic!" _

_He sounds like Dad. _

_HONK! HONK! HONK! _

"_In a minute!" Carla yells through me, towards Dan, even louder than the honks of the car horn. I think it gets Dan a little scared because normally he wouldn't stop unless somebody forced him to. "Thank you!" she says sarcastically, more to herself than to Dan. _

"_Ahem." _

_My head turns back towards Dr. Kelso and I stand there, waiting. _

"_If there's something to say, Bobbo, then say something already." Dr. Cox flicks his nose and nods toward me. "You're wasting his time." _

_Dr. Kelso ignores him easily. _

"_Dr. Dorian, as I am sure Dr. Cox…" he stops for a moment. His head turns left and right, anywhere but behind. "Where the hell is he…?" He shakes his head and, as Dr. Cox sighs exaggeratingly, continues, "I am sure Dr. Cox has told you of the precautions Sacred Heart has decided to take, I feel it is my duty to personally fill you in on what exactly the protocol is for this type of situation–" He turns left and growls, "Ted! Fill him in." _

"_Um…" Ted's arm careens over his head and he plays with the little bit of hair he has on the side. "Well…um…Dr. Dorian, we are…um…" _

"_Spit it out!" Dr. Kelso says, angrily, voicing my thoughts. _

_Ted gulps. "Considering what has happened and considering the small amount of time you spent in this hospital after your incident with Mr. Radin just six days ago," all of us present wince, even Kelso and Cox, "we are inclined to have you see a therapist–" _

"_Whoa," I say, "do you mean "inclined" or "forced" to see a therapist?" _

"_Whatever makes you comfortable, sport," Dr. Kelso says. "The meetings are mandatory, however." _

_Carla takes my shoulder in her hand as I open my mouth to protest. She says, "How many?" _

"_Five hours a week for one month," Ted answers. "Afterwards Dr. Dorian will be evaluated by his therapist and by Dr. Cox." _

_Dr. Cox merely groans. _

_I can't win this. I know I can't. It's either don't do this and lose my job or suffer through it. _

_I sigh and slouch, shifting the straps of my backpack on my shoulder. "When will I be able to return to work?" _

"_In three days, after at least one session," Dr. Kelso responds this time. "We will ease you in with chart work and shadowing other residents; then you will be able to work back into a regular schedule and we will go from there." _

_I scratch the back of my head, surprised. This is just friggin' unbelievable. _

"_Now this," I mumble, under my breath. "Geez, you've gotta be kidding me…" _

_Dr. Cox steps forward, knocking Kelso in his traditional shoulder bump, and hands me a small business card. _

DR. CAMMY D. SAMPSON

_Carla takes the card from me and questions, "Is this who is recommended, or is it somebody he has to go to." _

"_Recommended," Dr. Cox says. "She's good and she's not too flashy; she's even handled most doctors here…" _

_He's talking about himself, it's obvious. That's odd Dr. Cox doesn't usually share information like that so willingly. _

_I take the card back from Carla and carefully slip it into my pocket. These damn sessions are mandatory; I might as well go to somebody that Dr. Cox recommends. She handled him, so why can't she handle me? _

"_Is that it?" Carla questions. "We're both off our shifts." _

_Dr. Kelso rolls his eyes and simply leaves, no other words said. Dr. Cox follows suit, right on his heels, nodding once to Carla and holding a stare with me before leaving. _

_I run a hand down my face, frustrated. "This sucks." _

"_You don't have to do this right away," Carla says, turning towards me. "I can schedule an appointment–" _

"_Tomorrow," I interfere, "schedule one." _

"_Are you sure, Bambi?" _

_I shrug. "Might as well get it over with, right?" I turn to her. "Tomorrow morning. All right? I can do it if–" _

"_No, I'll do it." Carla smiles warmly and starts leading me out the door. "Come on now, let's get home." _

_I pile up into the car with Dan and Carla moves toward her own vehicle, planning on following us home. _

XXXXXXXX

XXXXXXXX

"You should probably get some sleep now, Bambi." Carla kisses me on the cheek before hopping off the bed. I miss the physical contact as soon as it's gone. "I called Dr. Sampson's office and they can fit you in for tomorrow morning at 11 a.m. if you feel up to it."

"I'll be fine," I say, yawning. "No problem."

Carla ignores my reassurance. "If you have a fever tomorrow morning we'll reschedule."

"Yes, mother."

"Bambi…"

"Sorry. Where's Dan?"

"Can't you hear? He's snoring in the living room; the television is on."

"Hmmm," I yawn again. "Guess he tired himself out. I'm surprised he lasted as long he did considering he drove all the way here just this morning."

"Sounds like you tired yourself out too. Maybe you should sleep."

"What happened to not letting me?" I question, closing my eyes.

"I'll check up on you." Carla squeezes my shoulder. "You're tired. Sleep."

"Nah…" I say, yawning again. "It's a symptom from the concussion. Fatigue, you know?"

"Go to sleep, Bambi."


	7. My Off Day

**My Off Day**

_The rough hand gripping my shoulder suddenly falters and I feel two hands shoving me forward as I trip over my own two feet and fall face first toward the rocky surface of the hospital rooftop. Immediately, I flip around to my back end and struggle to scoot my lanky form across the length of the roof to distance myself as much as I can away from the crazed man standing in front of me. _

_He has his back to me and is working the lock of the door. The lock hasn't worked in nearly five years, but he doesn't need to know that. He growls when his hand twists the knob and it opens easily. Eyes searching his surroundings, he finds what he needs: a wooden plank. I whimper. I think it's a tool he going to use on me. When his head turns towards me, I shrink and press my body closer against the half-wall behind me, and he raises the plank. I whimper again before I can clamp my hands against my mouth and he laughs this large, throaty laugh. He takes the plank and props it against the doorknob: A lock._

_This means I'm stuck. This means nobody can come up. This means…_

_Actually, I don't want to know what it means. Besides, I know it's not good._

_The crazed man, Mr. Radin, slowly stalks up to me in three long steps and towers over me with his arms lax against his side and his head titled up towards the night sky. It's beginning to rain and we're currently getting soaked in cold water, shirts and pants sticking uncomfortably to our skin. He's not saying anything, and quickly I'm unable to stand the silence._

"_L-look, Mr. Radin," my voice trembles and shakes as I speak, "why don't we just go down and talk to–"_

_Mr. Radin kneels down in front of me and I immediately stop as the silver glint in his hand catches my eye. He twists the knife part out in front of him and uses it as if it's a finger, pointing between my eyes. "You talk too much," he says, conversationally. "Don't talk anymore. Understand?" I nod easily and he laughs that same sadistic laugh. "Obedient," he says, slapping my cheek with the other hand, keeping the knife in place. "That makes you a good lapdog."_

_I gulp. I feel pathetic._

_Still laughing slightly, Mr. Radin whips the knife away from my face and pushes himself up. He moves slowly next to me and hops onto the half-wall so that he's sitting with his legs settled next to me. The knife is still within skin-touch, so I don't dare move, even if I'm in one of the most uncomfortable positions I've ever been in._

"_Still want to talk?"_

_I will myself to keep from answering._

"_No…? Well, damn, you are quite the obedient one." Mr. Radin coughs lightly into his hand. "They told me you were. I figured that that was why you went on with the needle and hurt me. It wasn't that you were the bad one, it was that you worked for bad ones."_

_I couldn't help myself:_

"_Who's 'they'?"_

_Mr. Radin laughs. He set me up._

"_So close, Dr. Dorian." His hand comes down and grips my shoulder. "You know, I was really rooting for you. Inside…"_

_The knife closes in…_

XXXXXXXX

XXXXXXXX

"NO!"

My body whips up before I can realize the aching pains in my muscles are in fact real and not part of the nightmare I had just escaped. When reality does enter my mind, I immediately double over and wrap my arms protectively around my stomach in a desperate attempt to keep down whatever is climbing up my throat. Whether it's a bout of vomit or a yawn, I'm not taking the chances. I blindly reach for the water glass Carla left at my bedside table and carefully bring it up to my cracked lips. Fortunately, the water moves easily down my throat and my heart slows to a more normal beat.

I let out a puff of air and straighten my body. Considering nobody has rushed into my room in the few minutes that's past, I'm guessing either my scream wasn't too loud or nobody heard my strangled yelp. Looking to the side, I set the water glass down on the bedside table and glance at the clock while I'm in that position. 6:40 a.m., terrific. I'm up early again, only five hours of sleep this time. I can't go to work today considering my _leave _so there's no reason to get ready and leave the apartment before anybody else awakens. Carla would kill me if I left; she wants to drive with me to Dr. Sampson's office.

_Shrink. Quack. Therapist. Kook._

Throwing the covers away from my body, I toss my legs over the edge of the mattress and carefully lower my bare feet to the cold, carpeted ground. My hand goes down the length of my face and I rub the sleep crust from my eyes before pushing myself up to a standing position. I wobble uncertainly on my feet and it takes a few seconds before I finally get my bearing straight and am able to stand without propping myself up. Carla has graciously left a pair of slippers next to my bed so I glide my feet into those before walking toward the door.

"Hey, little brother!"

My eyes widen. I recoil.

His back to me, I find my brother standing in the middle of Turk and Carla's kitchen. He's already dressed too: wearing a bright red shirt and a loose pair of dark, blue jeans. He tosses his head over his shoulder and flashes his foolish grin at me.

"D-Dan?" My voice cracks so I clear it. "What the hell are you doing up? It's six o'clock in the morning."

Dan waves a pan and yellow box in the air. He grins.

"Pancakes, little brother?"

"Oh…Um- I guess…" I gulp. "Sure. Why not?"

I don't see how Dan can be so happy all the time, so optimistic about every single day and every single moment of our lives. Even when we were kids, he just never let anything get him down. When I failed tests–which didn't happen too often–I always nearly wet my pants because I was so scared of telling my mom and dad, but Dan, he was something else. When Dan failed tests–which _did_ happen often–he just smiled that goofy smile of his and plastered it on the fridge as a sort of souvenir. For some reason, Mom and Dad laughed that that.

"Johnny?"

I shook my head, bringing myself out of the daydream. Dan was staring openly at me.

"What?"

He cocked a brow. "Are you going to sit down?"

"N-no…" I jerked my head toward the bathroom. "I think I'm going to take a shower."

Dan frowns. "I thought you said you wanted pancakes."

"I do…it's just that- Um, I kind of want to get out of these dirty clothes. You know?"

He nods. "Elliot came by before she went to work. Just left, actually. She dropped off a bag of your stuff."

He pointed to the black bag next to the doorway and I picked it up, zipping it open: clothes and a toothbrush. Great. Now I'm set for getting cleaned up. I feel so dirty in these clothes. I took it with me into the bathroom and told Dan to save me some pancakes. A trickle of drool emerged from Dan's mouth as he dunked the contents of the yellow box into a mixing bowl he had gotten out. He nodded offhandedly to my statement.

I clicked the light on in the bathroom and first did my business. Next, I washed my hands. I made sure my head was ducked down as I cleaned my hands with soap and water. I probably still look like crap. After I take a shower I should probably look a better–I hope…

Snatching a towel from the cabinet in the corner near the toilet, I hung it up on the hook next to the shower door. Then, I looked through the black bag and took out a pair of light blue jeans and a black sweatshirt. I folded them, and my undergarments, across the rack next to the hook. Finally, I peeled off my current clothes and stuffed them into the bag before I hopped into the shower and let the cool water wash down on me.

Showers are so relaxing…

I hummed a small tune under my breath to keep my mind from wandering and washed my hair and body quickly. It took all of 20 minutes before I was done and out of the shower with my clothes on, my teeth brushed, and my hair gelled up. I was, fortunately, correct about how a shower would make me look more presentable. I still had fading black bags under my eyes, but my cheeks were now full of life and I actually looked healthy. Even the scar on my arm was healing up nicely.

_An arm wrapped around my neck as the knife dug deeper into my skin. I screamed through it all as Mr. Radin laughed mechanically in my ear and kept whispering about people telling him to do this to me…_

My head snapped up instantly. Brain rush! I shook myself from the thought and tossed the towel I was using to wipe my face onto the floor. Taking one last look at myself, I nodded at what looked back at me in the mirror before walking out the door with my head held higher than usual. I dropped my bag to the floor in the living room and attempted to a smile a good morning at a now-awake Carla and Turk.

"Good morning!" Carla chirped happily. "You look much better, Bambi. Still have a headache?"

I shrug. "I'm fine."

Not a total lie. I'm better than I was last night.

When I reach the table, Carla quickly shoots her hand out and places it on my forehead. I attempt to duck out from under her, but she growls a sound that almost sounds like Turk's stomach. Before I can determine if it was indeed Turk's stomach, Carla's hand is off my forehead and she's pressing a bottle of Advil into my hand.

"Ahhh, baby," Turk says, mumbling around his pancakes. "Leave him alone." Carla rolls her eyes and wipes the food that spattered onto her top. Dan laughs and Turk mumbles, "Sorry" as Carla shoots him a look.

Reaching out for the orange juice, I swallow two pills before sitting down between across from Carla and Turk. Dan hands me a plate of four pancakes and smiles as take it from his hand without putting up an argument.

I guess I have been a bit confrontational when it comes to my well-being. But, it is my body and I can do with it what I please.

Oh, jeezus… I sound like a teenaged girl. Won't Dr. Cox be happy?

"Eat up, Bambi." Carla says. "I made an appointment for Dr. Sampson at 8 a.m."

"You don't work today?"

"Switched my shift with a night nurse. I don't have to go in until 1:30 p.m."

"You really don't have to come…"

"Nuh-uh," Turk grins, "can't talk her out of this one, man. She's set on it. I even told her to let you go alone, but she won't hear anything of it."

"You're not coming?" I questioned. _But… I want you there, Chocolate Bear._

Turk frowns. "Sorry. Last week I made a deal with the Todd to switch shifts with him. You remember? It was that marathon of–" he stops as he catches Dan and Carla staring at him. He leans forward and finishes, "Gilmore Girls."

What a good day that was…

"Yeah," I nod. "I understand."

"Don't worry, Johnny!" Dan swings his arm over my shoulder and I nearly choke on the piece of pancake I'm chewing. "Big brother will be there for you when you meet up with your counselor!"

_Shrink. Quack. Therapist. Kook._

Hesitatingly, I smile.

Carla rolls her eyes. Taking me is one thing, bringing Dan along is another– I catch her gaze and smile.

"Alright," she says, exasperated. "We'll go as soon as we're done eating."

XXXXXXXX

XXXXXXXX

I'd managed to stay out of or avoid most of the conversations Dan and Carla tried to bring up during breakfast. They didn't really try to get me to talk as much as they had before, but they did ask me simple questions that I could answer with a nod or shake of my head. Mostly, the whole meal past in a nice, companionable silence. Turk left soon, deciding to take the bus to work considering we needed the car and there was no other form of transportation to take and Sasha was still in the repair shop. ("When do you get her back?" "Next week, I think.")

Afterwards, Carla went to get ready and left Dan and me alone. He mostly talked, knowing I wouldn't answer him or join in on any conversation topic, and told me about his home life and about our mom and her new boyfriend, Fredrick.

"He sure is nicer then that guy Mom divorced two years ago. He even said I could move back into the basement, but I said I had a good apartment. I think Mom was disappointed; sounded like she wanted me back. No way, though, not going down that road again. I actually have a good job at the bar I'm running. I made manager. Did I tell you? The owner says he's thinking about selling it to me someday. Could you believe that? My own bar. Sure would make that eight years working experience seem worth it…"

Luckily, Carla didn't take too long to get dressed and we were out the door before Dan could tell me about all the drunk, teenaged girls that snuck in during their prom night. I really didn't need to hear that story. Though, knowing that he was making something of himself in that bar made me happy.

"I call shotgun!" Dan shouts as he shoots out the door and hops into the unlocked Mini Cooper. He rolls down the window all the way and grins at his as he hangs out of the car.

"How is he related to me?" I mumble, looking toward the sky.

Carla, to my surprise, laughs. "You two are just alike, Bambi. You just don't know it."

"Obviously," I tell her. I look to her and question, "I thought you hated Dan."

She shrugged. "He's not too bad, Bambi, just a bit…oh- what's a good word? Eccentric…"

"I can think of a dozen more."

"Blood-related," Carla points out. "I can think of the same for you, I bet."

"Come on, guys! We don't have all day!"

I frown. "Easy for him to say, it's not his appointment."

Carla shakes her head and ushers me into the car. She moves around to the driver's side and asks Dan for directions on where to go as she drives. Aside from the muttered directions from Dan, no conversations flow through the car and I'm safely tucked away to my own thoughts as I stare out the window in the backseat as I watch as the scenery rush by.

I'm trying to figure out how Dr. Sampson is going to be. I'd been to a shrink (Quack. Therapist. Kook.) before when I was six-years-old and it was dubbed by my school that I wasn't "all there" because I always zoned out during conversations. My dad said it was just how I was and I was pulled out of it after just one session.

How bad could Dr. Sampson be? She handled Dr. Cox.

Soon enough the clinic came into view and Carla parked the car near the entrance. We hopped out–Dan more slowly this time–and went inside the office. There were about 15 offices inside and two floors. Dr. Cammy D. Sampson, as it said on the card, was on the second floor in room 204. As we entered the room, I went to the desk person and told Carla and Dan to wait for me.

"Good morning," the woman, her tag reading 'Shelly' said. "How can I help you?"

"My name is Dr. John Dorian and I have an appointment at 8 a.m."

Shelly typed into her computer and nodded before turning back to me. "Right, we have it right here. Going to see Dr. Sampson?" I nodded. "She's running a bit late this morning, having car troubles, but she's expected to be here soon." Shelly handed me a clipboard and a pen. "If you'll just fill these forms out and return it to me when you're done, please."

I nodded and moved back to the waiting room and sat in a chair between Dan and Carla.

"Forms," I said, holding up the clipboard. "She should be here soon."

Carla nodded and grabbed for a magazine as Dan looked on as I filled out the forms.

Name. Address. Phone number. Cell number. Occupation. Work number. Work Fax. E-mail. Allergies. Medications.

In case of emergency numbers:

First, I put down Turk and Carla's phone number. Second, Elliot. Third, and I'm not entirely sure why it came out, I put Dan.

Dan, looking over my shoulder as I wrote his name, smiled.

Reason for visit…

I got up from my seat and moved to hand Shelly the chart.

"Excuse me, Dr. Dorian?"

_So close! _I turned and plastered on a fake smile. "Yes?"

"You left one blank, sir." Shelly said, pointing to the offending blank with a pen. "We need a reason for visit."

"Oh… Well, you see–" I was soon cut off.

"That won't be necessary, Shelly." I turned at the voice and found myself face-to-face with a semi-tall, petite woman. She had on a white coat with a black outfit underneath and wore her hair down with black curls bouncing onto her shoulders. She smiled a thin smile and watched me from behind her blue-green eyes. "Dr. Dorian, correct?"

I nodded. "Dr. Sampson?"

She nodded.

"Dr. Sampson…" Shelly frowned. "I need a reason for visit filled out so he can be in our records."

"I'll fill it out later," Dr. Sampson responded easily. She turned to me. "Dr. Cox called me last night and told me you were coming."

Carla and Dan's heads lifted at this.

"Dr. Cox did?" I questioned.

"Yes, it was quite surprising." She shrugged and smiled fondly into the air. "Not what one would expect from a man like Perry Cox, but, in my business, you have to learn to expect the unexpected." I nodded. "So," she gestured to the door, "shall we go inside?"

"How long is this going to take?"

Dr. Sampson looked taken back. "Oh– Well…"

"No! It's not that I don't have time. My brother and my friend are waiting." I pointed to them. "I don't want them to wait for me too long."

"Oh! All right, well I think we can get this first session done in about an hour." She turned to Dan and Carla. "How's that?"

"Take your time." Dan winked as Dr. Sampson smiled easily. "We can wait."

Carla simply nodded.

Dr. Sampson smiled. "Great, then it's settled."

I nodded and walked through the door as Dr. Sampson closed it behind us.

We entered a medium-sized office that was colored in dark brown wooden furniture and black leather couches. Around the perimeter of the room were three bookcases and there was a wall filled with diplomas and certificates from different universities. It looked like a therapist's office did on the movies and television shows I watched.

"Have a seat," Dr. Sampson said, gesturing to the large leather couch that was in front of her desk, as she placed her briefcase on the floor. "It's a comfortable couch. I promise."

I sat down and watched curiously as Dr. Sampson dug through her desk and took out a match.

"What're you doing?" I questioned. "Is this some kind of technique you do?"

Dr. Sampson laughed. "No. I'm lighting candles."

"Candles…?"

"This office is so dreary without a little bit of flavor."

"Cinnamon?" I questioned, sniffing the air.

"That's right." She blew out the match and then moved to sit behind her desk. "Alright," she picked up her file, "do you prefer Dr. Dorian or John?"

"Actually, it's JD."

"Right," she scribbled that into her notes. "Well, first of all, is there anything you want to ask me?"

"You?"

"Yup."

"Um… Well, what exactly has Dr. Cox told you about me?"

"Aside from some information he's made me promised not to divulge to you, I'd say he's told me most everything he knew about what happened to you a few days ago with Mr. Radin." I flinch. Luckily, Dr. Sampson chooses to ignore it. "He didn't know every single detail though. He said people weren't with you the entire time…?"

I shifted. "Oh– Um…"

"That's all right, JD. We can talk about something else right now."

_Thank you!_

"Like what?"

"Family. Tell me about them. And your friends."

"Well, Dan…"

XXXXXXXX

XXXXXXXX

_Scritch, scratch. Scritch, scratch. Scritch, scratch._

The sound of a Death Pen. I was beginning to hate it all ready.

"…so I told him a penny, just to make conversation. Turns out, ironically, there was a penny stuck in the door and now the Janitor has decided to make my life a living hell. Pranks and such, nothing life-threatening or anything too horrible."

"So you don't consider yourselves friends?"

"It's iffy." I shrug. "At first I thought he was just a figment of my imagination."

"Why?"

"He only interacted with me for a while. I never saw anybody else talk to him even when he was around me and Turk or Carla or Elliot."

"What about Dr. Cox?"

I jerked forward, surprised. "What about him?"

"What's he like?"

"You know him, don't you?"

"I know what he tells me and I know his egotistical attitude he tries to cut across everybody." Dr. Sampson smiled. "He transferred to my office after his old therapist went into retirement."

"He probably doesn't want you telling me that."

She shrugged. "So… What about him? You seem to speak highly of him. He once told me about this conversation you had with him."

_I hope it wasn't embarrassing. _"Which one?"

"The one where you said you wanted to be like him, just better and more successful." She smiled as the heat rushed up to my face. "Do you still?"

"He's my mentor. He helped me my first day…" I shrugged. "Yeah. I still do."

_Scritch, scratch. Scritch, scratch. Scritch, scratch._

"Still," I said, ignoring the pen, "that was a while ago."

"He remembers. Whether we know it or not, JD, we change people's lives. Maybe you changed his somehow."

I muttered, "He's still pretty mean."

Dr. Sampson laughed. "True. But, that's his personality."

"I guess."

"You seem down about that. Do you wish you could change him?"

"That makes me sound like a hypocrite," I said, regarding her questioningly, wondering what trap I was falling into. "If I said I wanted to be like him then say I wanted to change him… That doesn't make sense, does it?"

"No," she shook her head, smiling. "It doesn't."

I nodded.

_John Dorian: 1_

_Therapist: 0_

"Why'd you become a doctor?"

"Besides the, I want to help people mantra?" I laughed. "My high school teacher talked me into it, really. He said I was good interacting with people and I was good with math and science. I was interested in all the medical stuff he showed me, so it was like I found a new hobby of sorts. Of course, it turned out to be a career." I continued, "Don't think I got in this just because my teacher told me to. I _did_ really want to help people."

_Scritch, scratch. Scritch, scratch. Scritch, scratch._

"Have you ever over-helped a patient? Tried to get too far into him or her…?"

"If you're trying to bring up Mr. Radin, you should just say it."

"Do you feel you didn't do Mr. Radin any good?" she questioned without missing a beat.

"Sometimes I think…" I trail off. I shake my head.

"Do you blame Dr. Cox for not listening to you?"

I freeze. I blink. I look up.

"He told me what _he_ knew. Or…what he thinks he knows." Dr. Sampson smiles. "So, do you blame him?"

"No," I say, without hesitation. "He didn't know. Heck, I didn't even know. We were still waiting on the tests."

"All right, well…"

_Scritch, scratch. Scritch, scratch. Scritch, scratch._

"Can we not talk about this," I question, desperate. "Just…not now…?"

"Maybe next time, JD." She looks up. "How's that sound?"

"Next time?" I search for the clock on her wall. "That's it?"

"Mm-hmm. One hour, right on the dot."

"All I did was talk about my friends and family."

"A first session is like an introductory course, JD. I get to know you and, in the process, you become more aware of your surroundings. If I just dove into questioning you about Mr. Radin you would be caught off guard. That's not very fair to you."

I stood from the couch, my legs wobbling.

"Okay…" I shake her hand as she stands too. "Well, I guess I'll see you–"

"In two days. Just call Shelly at the desk and tell her what time. I'm not very busy."

XXXXXXXX

XXXXXXXX

"How was it, Bambi?" Carla questions as we exit the clinic and climb into the Mini Cooper. "Not as bad you thought?"

"Didn't talk about much," I shrug. "Nothing to it but to do it, I guess."

Dan smiles as he turns his in his seat and looks at me. "She sure was _hot_! Did you see her–?"

The car jerked to the right and Dan's face hit the back of his seat, stopping him mid-sentence.

"Whoops," Carla says, stifling a laugh. "Sorry. Steering wheel was stuck."

Dan huffs and sinks back into his seat, rubbing a sore cheek.

"What do you want to do now?" Carla questions. "We could just go back to the apartment…?"

"We need a pharmacy run," Dan says suddenly. He pokes a finger to the left. "Go there."

Carla rolls her eyes. "What for? We don't need anything."

"I do!" Dan exclaims. "When Johnny called me yesterday I didn't have time to pack anything but clothes."

"You didn't bring a toothbrush?"

"Kind of forgot that tiny detail…"

"Tiny! Dan! That's personal hygiene we're talking about!" Carla immediately turns and parks. "Did you even brush your teeth this morning?"

"I used my finger," Dan replied defensively, climbing out of the car. "They're clean! Besides, I ate a whole pack of gum after breakfast."

Huh… So that was why he stuffed all that gum in his mouth…

We enter the pharmacy and, as Dan and Carla argue amongst each other, I move away from them for a moment of peace. I really didn't need to deal with their bickering. So, I head to the magazines and pick up the latest TV Guide. Might as well see what's on this week if I'm going to be stuck in the apartment the next two days.

"It's not the same, Dan!"

"It's close enough!"

Jeezus, they sure are loud. Good thing I walked off. I really don't want to be publicly embarrassed.

"Would you just pick one?! They're all the same!"

"There's a difference! Would you pick blue or red?"

"Who cares, as long as your teeth get brushed."

"I've still got gum…"

"Dan!"

"The back of the box says it cleans and whitens your teeth."

"They don't know anything!"

_They… They… They…_

"_They don't know anything, Mr. Radin!"_

My head jerks upright.

XXXXXXXX

XXXXXXXX

"_They don't know anything, Mr. Radin! It's part of your mind!"_

"_Shut up!"_

_Mr. Radin smacks me in the cheek, causing my head to jerk back and hit the wall behind me. I mutter a curse under my breath as unshed tears spring to my eyes. Pain shoots through my face and the back of my head as I cradle my face in my hands and wince as my fingers prod the sensitive flesh he had just hit. I look up towards my captor and hold back the scream that's slowly arising in my throat._

_I think I'm beginning to strike a chord with Mr. Radin's nerves. Ever since the police helicopter arrived earlier and flashed a light onto us, he had been even more twitchy and nervous than before._

_CLANK! CLANK! CLANK!_

_Somebody has been banging themselves against the locked door for the longest time too and Mr. Radin has been shaking since the first hit. He keeps jumping after each clank is made. The knife in his hand is beginning to shake and I have a strange feeling it won't be too long before Mr. Radin turns it toward me in a desperate attempt to escape. He's scratched my shoulder, sure, but there's still a possibility for stabbing._

_CLANK! CLANK! CLANK!_

_I gulp._

"_Shut up! Shut up! Shut up!" Mr. Radin yells, grabbing his hair and all but pulling it off his head. "SHUT UP! SHUT UP!"_

_I'm desperate to yell for whoever is doing that to stop but my throat hasn't been cooperating since Mr. Radin had me in a choke-hold earlier. The fact that I got that earlier yell out was just because of pure luck and adrenaline. Now the only thing I'm filled with his fear and pain. Embarrassment hasn't even crossed my mind, not even with the new vans I see down below in the parking lot._

_CLANK! CLANK! CLANK!_

"_SHUT UP! SHUT UP!"_

_Why won't this person just give up? Doesn't he know it's just aggravating Mr. Radin more?_

"_STOP IT OR I'LL KILL HIM!"_

_Suddenly I feel a hand grasp the collar of my scrubs top and a knife make its way underneath my neck, pressing down just hard enough to draw a little bit of blood as I hiss against the cold feeling it brings. Suddenly the clanks have stopped and Mr. Radin deflates in sudden relief. I try not to jostle too much in his hold as he maneuvers himself around the perimeter of the roof to pace back and forth, dragging me with him as he goes, still holding the knife to my neck._

"_I can't do that," Mr. Radin mumbles to himself. To the voices in his head. "I can't do that. Why would I do that? Should I do it? Why? Now? Right now?"_

_Oh…_

_I attempt to suck back my skin as the hold on me increases._

_Mr. Radin ducks down and whispers into my ear. "They said to do it. I didn't want to. Remember that?"_

"_M-Mr. Radin… Wait…" I choke desperately. "Stop…"_

_He kicks the back of my knees and sends me crashing to the ground as his knife moves from my throat. Before I can catch myself from falling face first to the rocky ground below, Mr. Radin grabs a fist full of my hair and yells at me to straighten up. I scream as he pulls me._

_Suddenly, the clanks are back._

_CLANK! CLANK! CLANK!_

_Luckily, this time it doesn't bother Mr. Radin. He calmly pushes me backward so I'm sitting on my rear end and hops up onto the half-wall of the roof. I attempt to look back at him, but he puts a hand on my head and forces it forward to where the wooden plank is finally beginning to move from the door handle and–_

_I scream and scream and scream as the knife digs into my shoulder and pops out quickly._

_CLANK! CLANK! CLANK!_

"_Do I do it now?" I hear Mr. Radin mumble as my screams silence to heavy heaves. "Now? Right now? Okay. Now?"_

"_Mr. Radin," my head turns as his shaky legs catch the corner of my eye. "Mr. Radin don't–"_

_It's too late. I can't even whip out my good shoulder out fast enough to grab him._

"_AHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH!!!"_

XXXXXXXX

XXXXXXXX

"Johnny! _Johnny!_"

Hands grip my shoulder as a heavy weight flattens against my stomach and holds down my arms and legs. Everything is confusing to me; and all I can do is scream and scream and scream as I attempt to kick, punch, and lash out at the hands that are trying to hold me down. I struggle against the voice shouting in my ear as I try to wriggle free of whatever is hurting my shoulder.

"Johnny! Johnny, _wake up_!"

"_Newbie? Goddamn… Look at me, Newbie."_

"_Is he all right, Dr. Cox?" _

"_Jeezus, look at his shoulder."_

"_Back up!"_

"_Oh… Right, sorry. Back up, everybody!'_

"_Newbie? Newbie? Come on, kid. It's all right. It's over."_

"Johnny!" My shoulders shook, not on their own. "Johnny! Wake up, Johnny! It's a _dream_!"

Was it? Or was it a memory?

Suddenly, pain jolted through my limbs as they began to jerk violently to their own accord. My mind shut off as I lost consciousness…

"He's convulsing! Call 911!"


	8. My Nightmare’s Scream

**My Nightmare's Scream**

_AHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH!!!_

_Crash…_

My eyes pop open and I feel them swivel crazily in their sockets as my head jerks from the left to the right, which only causes more pain because I'm tied to something very uncomfortable. I next try to my arms, but something's locking them in place and my legs are also strapped. I notice my shirt is off because I feel some sort of cloth pressing against my back and some sort of fabric lay across my bare chest. When latex touches my cheek my body jerks despite my awkward, confusing position. My eyes widen and I stare up into a pupil of brown.

"Dr. Dorian…?"

A whimper escapes my throat and immediately my cheeks flush in embarrassment. The man standing above me doesn't seem to take notice though and he continues to call me. I'm still confused though and nothing in my mind is telling me to trust this odd stranger who has, most likely, tied me down against my will. So I pump up my arms and legs slowly before I move my head from side to side. My eyes plead the stranger to let me go.

"Dr. Dorian, you must calm down. We're trying to help you."

Help me? Why do I need help?

As I open my mouth to question and plead my argument, a weak squawk rivaling the sound of a dying animal escapes my throat. My mouth closes and my brow furrows and, ignoring the man's order to stop trying to talk, I open my mouth again and emit the same pathetic sound. This time, as the sound dies in my throat, my chest rattles from a violent series of coughs. I struggle to sit up but I'm still strapped down and stuck in my uncomfortable position as my back arches up and down with every surge of pain.

"_Do something!_"

Before I can comprehend how familiar that voice is, my whole world tilts to the right and suddenly my face is inches from being dunked into a large white bin. I want so bad to be disgusted by what they know I'm going to do and I struggle to keep it all down, but all too soon everything comes out. They tilt me away from the bucket so I'm not to be dunked into…_that mess_…but I'm still close enough that my stomach jumps at the very stench. After what feels like hours I'm put back in my lying position after spitting in the bucket to get the taste out of my mouth.

A wet piece of cloth dabs my cheek and mouth and my eyes screw shut.

How _embarrassing_…

"Dr. Dorian…? Dr. Dorian, are you still with us?"

Oh, no… Just shut up. Stop talking to me. Please. Isn't it enough that you tied me down?

"Squeeze my hand if you can hear me."

Shut up. Shut up. Shut up. Shut up. Shut up.

"Johnny! Johnny! Come on, Johnny!"

What?

"Sir, _please!_"

Who in the world…?

"Look! He's responding! I'm helping!"

Am I right…? Is that…?

My eyes pop open again and I search around my surroundings, taking it in with more stride than when I first opened them up. I see that the ceiling above me is pure white metal, most likely some sort of vehicle considering the feeling of movement despite my immobile position. To the side I see the man from before and this time I see that he's dressed in a puffy blue jacket with a white cross on the breast pocket. An EMT? Well, that would explain why I'm tied down to this board–or, I guess, a gurney. He's looking across me, to my right, so my eyes travel across and I see– DAN!

I open my mouth and the strangled sound of my brother's name comes out. His head whips from the EMT across from him and looks toward me with his own bright, optimistic eyes. My mouth breaks into a thin smile as Dan shoots me a triumphant grin before turning to spit a raspberry at the EMT. My stomach flops as I laugh and cough at the same time.

"Little brother," Dan says, absolutely giddy, "you scared the hell outta me and Carla."

I look at him questioningly and mouth the word 'Carla'.

"Don't worry. She's following behind us in the Mini Cooper. They would only allow one person in the ambulance so she let me go because I'm your brother and, besides, the EMT didn't really want a nurse telling him what to do."

So I am in an ambulance. That's odd. And…how'd I get here?

I open my mouth but, before I can try to bring out the words, a hand is held up in front of my face.

"Please, Dr. Dorian, _don't talk_. You must rest your vocal chords."

Automatically my head turns to Dan. I don't know why I turned Dan, I honestly don't. I, John Dorian, am a doctor and I turn to Dan, my older brother, the barkeep for confirmation? Yeah, I'm most definitely going crazy. He seems taken back too but he nods and places a hand on my shoulder saying, "Listen to the man, Johnny. He's just trying to help."

I nod and turn my head, exhaustion sweeping over me.

"Johnny," Dan's hand finds its way to mine and he squeezes. "Don't go out on me now, Johnny. Not again."

His voice is pleading: Scared. I blink rapidly to try and stay awake, just for him.

"ETA?" I hear the EMT question.

"10 seconds, Jason." The man in the driver's seat responds. "Get him ready. Cox always expects the best."

The EMT, now named Jason, shakes his head and smiles as he catches my eye. "Rookie," he says, jerking his head toward the driver. "Dr. Cox gets to him whenever we drop off a patient; I'm not sure why. I think he's got something against us, probably a bad experience after riding with somebody on one of those mandatory trips."

Cox…? Dr. Cox…? Dr. Perry Cox…?

Oh no…

My eyes shoot to Dan and he flashes me a faux grin.

"Did I forget that little detail?" he asks. I groan inwardly. "Yeah, well, Sacred Heart is closest so…"

Jason looks between us. "What's wrong with Sacred Heart? It's a heaps lot better than General."

My eyes widen and jerk. Dan just keeps smiling.

"Oh… Oh! _Doctor_ Dorian! You work there, right?" Jason runs a hand through his hair. "Oh, well, there's nothing to do about that now."

_Magnificent_

"Sorry, little brother." Dan shrugs. He squeezes my hand again. "It'll be fine."

HONK! HONK! HONK!

"Here we go." The rookie up front says. "Good luck, Dr. Dorian."

Jason hands Dan an IV bag that's connected to my right arm and suddenly the gurney clatters to life as the ambulance doors open and I'm pushed into the bright sunlit ambulance bay. My eyes close momentarily as various voices enter my ear at once and medical jargon shoots over me. Usually I'm able to tell what's exactly happening, but I'm becoming so dizzy by the sudden change in environment that I can't keep up past, "Patient's name is Dr. John Dorian…"

"Dude…" A manic grin fills my face and suddenly a hand comes out. "Hurt five?"

I blink.

Dan pushes the Todd away yelling, "Back off, idiot!"

Good ol' Dan, always getting the mean bullies away from me–not that I consider the Todd a bully. I grin up at him with a dozed out smile as I struggle to keep my eyes open. Suddenly staying conscious is becoming more of a hassle because of this pain in my chest. The shock of everything seems to be wearing off and now I'm coming out of my numb state-of-mind.

And it sucks. And it hurts. And I want to just curl up and disappear.

"Bambi!" Carla's face appears next to Dan's.

Wet droplets fall onto my shoulder and I push back the frown forming on my face to plaster on a nice, reassuring smile. My hand, having been untied by Jason before he pushed the gurney out, weakly rises to flick a single tear off of Carla's face. She sniffles and chuckles, wiping the rest off with the sleeve of her coat. I hate making people cry.

My head lolls backwards and I turn to stare intently up at the sky. My gurney is being pushed so fast that the clouds are a little more than white blurs rushing by me. Soon the doors crashes open and one nurse and one doctor rushes to my side. They attempt to move Carla away but she flashes her Sacred Heart ID badge and they don't question her presence.

"I'm not waiting here!" Dan yells. I see out of the corner of my eye that he's being pushed away by a heavy-set, determined-looking nurse of about 50 years. "He's my _brother_!"

Carla points a finger at the nurse. "He's next of kin right now. He was with _Doctor Dorian _when he was seizing–"

"Ma'am, please," the nurse says. "We're just trying to help Dr. Dorian and this man will only get in the way."

"I will not!"

"He won't," Carla asserts. "I'll make sure of it."

"I'm sorry Nurse Espinosa." The nurse grabs Dan's hand. "It must be done. Come here…" she drags and–

"Ow! Hey! Stop, let go!" Dan yelps.

I watch as he looks down and grins triumphantly.

My hand is wrapped firmly around Dan's wrist, practically gluing myself to him.

I'm not sure why I'm holding onto him like this, I think I'm just scared, but right now all I know is that I've never needed Dan with me more than right now. My eyes plead to the older nurse and I look pathetically between her and the unfamiliar ER doctor next to her. They must know I _need _my older brother.

"There's not enough room with all of us," the doctor sighs. "I'm sorry."

They try to pry my hand off Dan, but I won't budge.

"I'll leave!" Carla volunteers. I look to her, grateful, and she smiles. "_Please_, Doctor. He's his brother. That's got to mean something."

"Okay… All right…" The doctor looks to me and, breathing deeply, repeats, "All right. He can stay. We just need you to relax now Dr. Dorian so we can figure out what happened."

"Come along, dear," I watch the nurse, now more kind than before, lead Carla away.

"I'll get Turk!" she calls to me. "Don't worry, Bambi! I'll be here!"

They push the gurney to the nearest, empty room and promptly move me onto a more comfortable bed. Jason, the paramedic, and his partner are out the door saying they have another emergency to tend to so I'm back to being with just the ER doctor, two nurses, and Dan. They hook me up into different machines and prod my body. I wince when they hit my chest and careen my neck down. A nurse to my left pushes me back down and fixes an oxygen mask over my face.

Right now all I feel like is crap. My body is aching, my heart is beating a mile a minute, and surges of great pain is moving up and down my every core. Of course, it's not helping that I'm being stared at, examined, hit, prod, and pushed. My face flushes in embarrassment and my eyes continue to blink rapidly against the bright fluorescent light that's hanging over my bed.

"Johnny," Dan pries his wrist from my steel-grip and I see that my handprint is glowing on his pale skin. "It's good, little brother, I'm right here."

I nod to him.

Dan looks up. "Is he going to be all right?"

"Mister…?"

"Dan," he supplies. "That's JD."

"Dr. Tan," the ER doctor replies. "All right, Dan, the first thing we're going to do is run some tests on JD."

"Tests for what?" he questions.

"Reactions," Dr. Tan states. "From Nurse Espinosa's phone call it seems JD's had some sort of attack, though I can't be a hundred percent certain yet. Is your brother allergic to any medications…?"

"Not that we're aware of."

"Is he on anything? Prescribed, I mean."

"No."

Dr. Tan turns to look at me and shines a penlight in my eye. "JD," he says, "do you remember what happened to you?"

I shake my head. My eyes widen.

"_Think_, Johnny," Dan regains my attention. "Remember the store…? The toothbrush…?"

I close my eyes, struggling against the memory.

"_You didn't bring a toothbrush?"_

"_Kind of forgot that tiny detail…"_

"_Tiny! Dan! That's personal hygiene we're talking about! Did you brush your teeth this morning?"_

"_I used my finger… They're clean! Besides, I ate a whole pack of gum after breakfast."_

"_It's not the same, Dan!"_

My eyes open and I moan from behind the oxygen mask. I remember a few things now. I remember going to Dr. Sampson and telling her about all my friends and family because it was our first session. Then we went to the pharmacy because Dan needed a toothbrush…then…then… After that it's blank and I…

I look to Dan. I've never seen him so worried about me before…

"_Johnny! Johnny!"_

_Hands grip my shoulder as a heavy weight flattens against my stomach and holds down my arms and legs. Everything is confusing to me; and all I can do is scream and scream and scream as I attempt to kick, punch, and lash out at the hands that are trying to hold me down. I struggle against the voice shouting in my ear as I try to wriggle free of whatever is hurting my shoulder._

"_Johnny! Johnny, wake up!"_

_A memory…_

"_Johnny!" My shoulders shook, not on their own. "Johnny! Wake up, Johnny! It's a dream!"_

"Little brother…? Johnny? JOHNNY?" Dan's voice called me. "What's happening?"

_I remember… I remember!_

_Wait… Why can't I open my eyes?_

"Is this what happened at the pharmacy?" Dr. Tan asked. "Is it?!"

_Happened? What's happening now? To me, you mean?_

"Yes! Yes!" Dan yelled. "Somebody said he was seizing!"

_Seizing? I was seizing._

_I don't remember _that.

"Well, he's not. Look. Come here… Stand. All right, talk to him, Dan."

_Dan…? Dan's here. Right, okay, I remember again. Dan…_

"Excuse me?"

_Dan! That's Dan!_

"Comfort him. Let him know you're here. It's all right, to touch him. I'm sure he can hear you."

_Of course, idiot, I'm not deaf._

"Johnny? Johnny, it's Dan…" I feel a light pressure in my palm and I soon realize it to be Dan's soft grip. My eyes struggle to open, to reassure Dan that I can hear him, but they don't seem to be cooperating with me right now. Instead, I attempt to squeeze his hand back. It seems to have a good effect as he says, "Johnny! Jeezus, little brother, you gotta stop scaring me like this. That's gotta be the third or fourth time you've passed out in the two days I've been here."

"Passed out?" I hear Dr. Tan question. "When has JD passed out?"

"Oh, damn. I should've mentioned: He was treated for a concussion yesterday after he hit the wall because of a patient during work. Dr. Cox said it was a grade five." Dan sighs. "Of course, then there's the two times today. Carla also said he had a bit of a fever this morning, but he took something that was not prescribed."

"Dr. Cox?" Dr. Tan questions to Dan's earlier statement. "Was he JD's physician?"

"He treated him, yeah." Dan shrugs, confused. "Does that matter?"

"If JD was last treated by Dr. Cox than technically that means JD is Dr. Cox's patient. We'll call him later." Next I feel hands on my cheeks and Dr. Tan's voice in my ear. "JD? JD…? Can you hear me? Can you open your eyes?"

"Squeeze my hand, Johnny. Squeeze it."

I squeeze Dan's hand. He sounds desperate. It feels like elephants are sitting on my eyelids. Moving them, even just to open them, causes me pain. Still, I'm able to do it within five minutes and soon I'm looking through glossy eyes up at Dan's wide-surprised eyes. Dr. Tan, brown hair covering the tops of his eyes, smiles down at me. My hand rises to move the oxygen mask away, but a nurse quickly swats away my hand.

"No talking," Dr. Tan requests. "You must rest your vocal chords. It should be fine in a few hours once we give you some ice chips and put you on a few antibiotics to calm you down."

Antibiotics… Probably something to knock me out… Probably a drug…

Bring. It. On.

I nod.

"Are you still running tests," Dan questions, moving out of the way as a nurse pulls the railings on the gurney up and I find myself moving through the halls of the hospital again.

Suddenly I'm being moved away from Dan, fast. I try to look but the nurses are keeping a firm hand on each of my shoulders to make sure I don't move too much. My voice croaks out, "Dan," but it's barely audible. I struggle to listen to his conversation with Dr. Tan.

"Wait… Where's he going?"

"Dan, we're just going to take a few scans. We need to make sure JD didn't hurt himself while in the pharmacy."

"But… But… You let me come in. Can't I go with him wherever he's going?"

"I'm sorry. No family members allowed under no circumstances. If you'll follow Nurse Shelly she'll take you to the room we've prepared for JD. He'll be staying here under observation to–"

My head sinks back into the stiff pillow below me and I settle my eyes to watch the ceiling fly by as the nurses' maneuver me into the elevator. They're talking amongst themselves and occasionally giving me a few comforting words, but other than that I feel pretty ignored. I think after this experience I'm going to give a lot more attention to my patients (More than usual!). I mean, if somebody is admitted here and is scared (which I'm not saying I am), hurt (not saying I'm that either), or embarrassed (maybe a _little_) don't they need to feel more comfortable than this?

"Dr. Dorian," I guess the nurse's didn't get the page on using my name, "you must calm down."

Calm down? Aren't I calm?

The nurse takes my arm and puts it at my side.

Was I flailing? Whoops. Guess I'm not so controlled over my actions anymore. Well, at least I'm not fondling… The Todd would only be so proud.

Oh…geez… YAWN…

"Is he all right?"

"Yeah, just let him sleep." I feel a hand squeeze me shoulder. "Just rest Dr. Dorian."

Is he all right? Is he all right? Is he all right? Is he all right? Is he all right?

XXXXXXXX

XXXXXXXX

_My face buried deeper into my knees as I continue to hug my legs closer to my chest. I'm thinking maybe if I keep this up than maybe I'll become invisible and everybody will just leave me alone. Maybe if I keep doing this all this noise will stop too. Maybe if I keep doing this I'll forget everything that just happened. Maybe, just maybe, if I keep doing this I'll be able to…be all right…again…_

"_Is he all right?"_

_I whimper._

"_No."_

_Of course, that's all just a theory._

"_Go get a gurney, stat. Get somebody to move the police and then tell the police, once they've moved, to block the press. There's no use in embarrassing the kid more than he, obviously, already is. After that go get two bags of type-O blood."_

"_Yes, sir." The feminine voice questions, worried, "Is he going to need surgery?"_

"_The cut isn't that deep. We'll treat him for shock." He whistles. "Go on!"_

_Footsteps clatter away._

"_Look at me, Newbie." The voice in front of me says, hand gripping my upper arm in support. "It's all right, okay? You're all right. It's over."_

_It's over? All over?_

_My head lifts up from it's position in my knees and I blink wearily against the abrupt change in the environment. It's still pretty dark in front of me so my vision doesn't have to correct that much, but it is raining and I have to look down a little so the raindrops don't get into my eyes. I feel that my hair, soaked by now, is matted down against my forehead, and little water droplets are slowly trickling down my face. If they are indeed tears than I'm glad it's raining because, in front of me, is none other than Dr. Perry Cox._

_Dr. Cox looks at me with eyes lacing in various percentages of anger, fear, concern, and worriment. I wasn't entirely sure why he had that look of fear since it was all over, but maybe he thinks Mr. Radin will come back._

_Of course, the only way he'll come back is if he comes back from the dead._

_I chuckle, apparently aloud, and Dr. Cox gives me a look. I must be a sight to him though. I've been up for nearly 36 hours, I'm still wearing work clothes, I'm laughing like a maniac despite this awkward position, and I'm probably detached from everything._

"_Newbie, look at me." Dr. Cox grabs my chin and forces my eyes on him. "Look at me."_

_I looked at him…or…them… I wasn't sure. There were two._

"_How many fingers, Newbie?"_

_He held up his hand and I squinted. "Eight…?"_

_Dr. Cox put down his hand and sighed, shaking his head in frustration. I tried grinning, to relax him, but he gave me a death glare. So, instead, I settled back against the half-wall I was leaning against and leaned my head so far back that I was looking up into the darkened sky, oblivious to the raindrops that fell awkwardly against my eyes._

"_I love this weather…GASP…don't you, Dr. Cox. BREATH. It's so peaceful and warm. INHALE. It's fun to ride Sasha in… EXHALE."_

_I looked down as I realized he was prodding my right shoulder._

"_What're you doing," I questioned, jerking slightly. "Stop…"_

"_Can you feel this, Newbie?"_

"_Feel what?"_

_Dr. Cox sighed and mumbled a curse under his breath._

"_What's wrong, Dr. Cox? Did I say something?"_

"_No, Newbie," he was being surprisingly patient with me. "You didn't say anything. Just calm down while I check you out, all right?"_

"_Oh…okay…"_

_I muttered, not really sure why my mouth wouldn't stop, "I-It's so noisy today… I wonder why, huh? Could be the rain, but it's not really storming." I looked Dr. Cox in his eyes and, after stopping to take a few deep breaths, said, "I hear sirens. Was there an accident…? Oh… You shouldn't be up here with me. You should be downstairs, helping everybody. So should I… Right?"_

"_There wasn't an accident, JD."_

"_JD? Why'd you call me JD?"_

"_That's your name." Dr. Cox looked to me, worried. "Remember?"_

_I scoffed. "Of course I remember my name, but you don't call me JD. You call me 'Newbie' or 'Julie' or 'Cathy' or 'Kim' or 'Rhonda' or 'Phyllis' or 'Margaret' or 'Amy' or 'Sheila' or 'Tammy' or 'Stephanie' or 'Meredith' or–"_

"_I get it, Lola."_

"_Th-That's better," I slurred, my eyes suddenly drifting to a close. "Th-That's m…more normal…"_

"_Don't go to sleep, Newbie. Not yet. You can in a while but not now." _

_AHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH!!!_

_My eyes popped open immediately. I turned to Dr. Cox. "You don't have to scream. I'm up."_

"_Scream?"_

_AHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH!!!_

_My hands, one jerking free from Dr. Cox's suddenly off-grip, turned to my ears, plugging them. Dr. Cox questioned me, asking me what the hell I was doing, but I ignored him as the screams got louder._

_AHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH!!!_

_Plugging my ears wasn't working though. I could still hear it. Why did it have to be so loud? My eyes screwed shut and I vaguely felt Dr. Cox asking what was wrong._

_AHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH!!!_

"_Stop!" I yelled. "Stop screaming! Stop! Stop! STOP! PLASE STOP!"_

_AHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH!!!_

"_Newbie? Goddamn… Look at me, Newbie." I heard Dr. Cox yell, struggling to pry my hands away from my ears. "Newbie! Newbie, stop yelling! Open your eyes, dammit."_

_Footsteps clattered over the screaming and more voices shot through me._

"_Is he all right, Dr. Cox?" _

"_Jeezus, look at his shoulder."_

_AHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH!!!_

_I whimpered. When would the screaming stop?_

"_Back up!"_

"_Oh… Right, sorry. Back up, everybody!'_

_Dr. Cox shot out his hands and took both my cheeks. He cupped my face and, at the odd gesture, I couldn't help but open my eyes. His face was inches from mine and his mouth was moving, but no words were coming from it. I lowered my hands, experimentally, and suddenly all the sounds were back and the screaming was gone._

_I listened to the sirens blaring in the distance. Watched as a helicopter from overhead shone a light on us. Heard screams and shots from the ground below us._

"_Dr. Cox…?" I questioned, uncertainly._

"_Yeah," he said. "Yeah, kid. I'm here."_

_My face scrunched up and my emotions fought to keep in check, but I couldn't stop. Every little ounce of fear that had shaken me to my very core was suddenly pouring out of me all at once. My head looked to the side, away from Dr. Cox and out of his grip, and I gulped back whatever was clogging up my throat. My body shook all at once and my eyes screwed shut. My whimpers grew louder as I fought a losing battle._

"_Newbie…?"_

_I was forced back to look at Dr. Cox and he frowned. I looked like such a weak child in his eyes._

_Not really sure why, I lunged at him and wrapped one arm around the back of his neck as another hand grabbed the scruff of his white coat. My face buried deep into his chest and my back rocked back and forth. I needed this comfort suddenly. I needed this relief._

"_Newbie? Newbie?" Hands encircled me and held me. "Come on, kid. It's all right. It's over."_

_My body wracked with sobs and I held tighter around my sudden lifeline._

_We both knew this was far from over for me._

XXXXXXXX

XXXXXXXX

Eyes blinking wearily, body as stiff as the mattress beneath me, I carefully uncurled my lanky body and opened my eyes to find a white plaster blob staring down at me. Clearing my vision with a few casual blinks, I found the plain, white ceiling of a Sacred Heart dark-clad hospital room, the tell-tale signs of the sun's rays peeking between the folds of the blinds in the window. I reached up then to wipe the sleep crusts from my eyes, but stopped as a simple tug at the arm caught my attention. Flexing slightly, ignoring the uncomfortable cricks my bones made, I studied the IV.

That's odd. What happened?

Taking it slowly, letting out a few evened breaths, I closed my eyes and tried to search my mind for the last memory I could recall. I remembered about something about being at the pharmacy with Dan and Carla before everything went blank. Then the ambulance…Dr. Tan…and something about a test… I guess I must've conked out during that round.

The bed shifted suddenly I jerked backwards, surprised. Did I do that? My head careened to the left and what I saw caused a faint, grim smile to cover my face. For there, sitting curled up in an uncomfortable chair next to my bed, was Dan. He looked, quite obviously, exhausted. He sat somewhat stiffly in the chair and had his legs propped up on my bed, his head lolled down so that his chin was resting on the top of his chest and his right arm hung loosely over the side as his right arm rested near my own hand on the bed.

Careful, I gently picked up my fingers and touched the top of Dan's hand. He looked like he needed to sleep, but I wanted somebody to fill in the detail for me on how exactly I got here. As soon as I touched Dan's hand, his mouth sputtered a few incoherent words and his head shot up slightly, eyes not even opening. I touched his hand again and Dan's head rolled backwards over the short backrest of the chair he was sitting on as his feet jumped to like and feel to the floor with a loud 'thunk'.

Dan rubbed a hand over his weary face and, when finished, looked up. His face brightened immediately. "_Johnny!_"

"Dan," I whispered, unable to get any louder. I cleared my throat but didn't try again; instead settling on a small smile.

Dan immediately leaned over and grabbed the Styrofoam cup on the nightstand. He held out the cup to me and pulled out a piece of ice. "They said you couldn't get any water until they checked your throat, so a nurse brought in ice chips." He put it into my hand and wordlessly helped me raise it to my mouth so I could suck on the cold water. It worked down my parched throat roughly and I coughed to the side. "Better?" he questioned, sitting back down.

I nodded and cleared my throat. "Thank you."

Sagging back into his chair, Dan ran a hand over his hair. "_Jezus_ Johnny, you really scared the shit out of me."

I frowned. "Sorry, I couldn't really help it." I looked back around at my surroundings. "What happened?"

"How much do you remember?"

"Something about tests from Dr. Tan," I croak out, coughing again. "Not much after that."

"You've been asleep for a while," Dan said, pursing his lips and shrugging.

"How long is a while?"

Dan turned to look at his watch. "Oh…about…two and half day…"

My form shot up and I immediately regretted the movement as my vision swum unsteadily in front of me. I felt Dan's hands on my shoulders pushing me back down. "Almost three days," I managed through a sore throat. "What…? How…? When…?"

Dan stood shakily. "I should get Dr. Cox. He can answer your questions better than I can."

"Dr. Cox…? Oh, _geez_, please don't tell me he's _my _doctor again."

Dan nodded. "Just lay still, Johnny. I'll be right back."

Why Dr. Cox? Why _always _Dr. Cox? I mean, aren't there enough doctors in this place to get stuck with. Do I necessarily have to be with the person I consider to be my mentor and father-figure.

"Newbie," Dr. Cox appeared in the doorway very suddenly. "You're awake."

"Appears so," I muttered, coughing. "Where'd Dan go?"

"Gone to call the A-Team," Dr. Cox said, sitting on the side of my bed. He pulled out a penlight and flashed it in my eyes then, without so much as a warning, forced my mouth open and peeked in. "Still a bit strained," he muttered. "You'd do well to keep talking to a bare minimum." He rolled his eyes then. "Though, we all know that's not going to happen anytime soon."

I frowned and ignored him. "Dan said I was asleep for two and a half days."

"So much for not talking," Dr. Cox rolled his eyes again. He glared at me and said, "Would you at least try not to talk too much." It was more of an order than a question, but whatever.

"What happened?"

"Fever," Dr. Cox said simply. "You spiked to around 104 and were delirious most of the first day. The second day we were able to bring your fever down with intravenous fluids," he pointed to the IV, "and you slept all day."

I coughed. "Time?"

"It's almost 5 a.m." He gestured to the digital clock near my bed. "Depending how everything goes today, you'll be able to leave within the next day or two."

"I don't understand," I said, ignoring the itch in my throat.

"What's to understand?" Dr. Cox questioned, exasperated.

I pointed to my throat, not really needing words. I wanted to know why the hell my voice was acting up if I just had a fever. Sure people get sore throats, but not like this.

Moving over, Dr. Cox sat in Dan's vacated chair and leaned back. He tapped his fingers against the armrest before leaning forward and resting his chin on clasped hands. I waited patiently; he seemed to be searching for the right words. Finally, one word came out:

"Screaming."

_Excuse me? _I shoot him a confused look.

"Your throat needs rest because you were screaming." Dr. Cox gulped like he shouldn't be telling me this information. "According to Dan, that's also what happened in the pharmacy."

_Screaming_, I mouthed. My hands went to my throat and I felt the inflammation.

"You were delusional, semi-conscious with your fever and you weren't aware you were doing any damage so you kept screaming even after that."

"Load?" I croaked, embarrassed.

"Apparently it was loud in the pharmacy, but when you got here your larynx was already damaged enough that the most would come out would be a sort of squeaking sound. Still, it did something and that's why you're still sore."

Oh… That would explain a few things…

"Dr. Tan told me it was induced by shock, but that's not true, is it?" Dr. Cox's voice lowered into a calm whisper. "It was something else, wasn't it?"

_AHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH!!!_

My eyes shut quickly. I clenched my hands (Clench, Unclench, Clench…) and turned my head away from Dr. Cox. My eyes glazed over and I didn't want him to see me so weak. Thankfully, Dr. Cox said nothing and let me have my moment. We both knew why I was screaming. We both knew what could make me scream like that. It was a damn nightmare–_No_, it was a memory.

"Newbie," Dr. Cox cleared his throat.

He had that tone in his voice, that same tone he used on unruly patients or smart-mouthing interns, or angry family members. It was that tone that said "I-am-your-boss-right-now-and-I-will-not-take-any-of-your-shit-because-we're-settling-this-right-now".

I gulped. My head turned back to Dr. Cox, eyes cleared and alert.

"Newbie," Dr. Cox repeated, sighing. He ran a hand down his face and through his curly hair. "You know you've got to do something about this."

I gulped and nodded my head.

Clench. Unclench. Clench. Unclench.

"Either you get some help or you take whatever is bottled up in your chest and you let it out right now."

I looked up, suddenly very confused. "Now? To who…Dr. Sampson…?"

"If you don't want to blab to me, then I can get Dr. Sampson."

"T-To _you_?"

"Unless you have a problem with that–"

"NO!" I coughed, realizing my mistake immediately. I gulped down a large bout of air and shuddered at the pain. I whispered, "What about my throat…?"

"If it's too much of a hassle we'll wait until your throat heals."

My throat hurt like hell, but I needed this off my chest. I needed to get it out.

"What do you want me to say?" I bit, suddenly angry. My eyes closed again and flashes of everything that happened on that roof whisked through my brain in a matter of seconds.

Clench. Unclench. Clench. Unclench.

My fingernails dug into each of my palms.

Dr. Cox said nothing.

"You want me to tell you…" I gulped and I repeated, "You want me to tell you that I-I…I still hear that _scream_?"

_AHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH!!!_

"I still hear that crash…? You want me to tell you that? That, I can't get to sleep and I can't rest because every single time I close my eyes I hear _his _scream. His scream when he fell to the pavement and I couldn't do a damn thing…"

My head dipped down.

"He was _my _patient. He was _my _patient and I let him down." I frowned. "That scream… That damn scream…"

_AHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH!!!_

Clench. Unclench. Clench. Unclench.

"I'm never going to get that out of my head. I'm never going to forget. For as long as I live that scream and the sound of his body hitting the pavement will be in my head forever."

_AHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH!!!_

_Crash…_


	9. My Confidants

**My Confidants**

Sighing, letting out a huff of air, my eyes blink hazily against the blurred darkness in front of me as I carefully pull my legs to my chest and hug my knees close to my body. The mattress creaks as I shift to a more comfortable position. Staring blankly out the window of my room, I watch the white snowflakes melting against the rays of the newly aroused sun as bits of light peek through the half-open blinds to brighten up the pasty white surroundings around me.

Dry tearstains are lining the length of my face and my shoulders are shuddering from a phase of some sort of panic attack I just endured. My eyes are weak from sleep crusts, but I won't bring my hands up to wipe them away because it feels as if overgrown elephants are sitting on them. I can't stop shivering despite the fact I'm under a heavy blanket and I'm sweating like a pig. Everything is just contradicting itself: I feel dirty and gross and lazy and pained and deeply embarrassed and-Oh, _jeezus…_

Dan is here. He's sitting cross-legged on my bed, facing away from me. He had come in a few seconds after I was venting about hearing Mr. Radin's screaming freefall and, with one look at me and a glare from Dr. Cox, he shooed Carla, Elliot and Turk away before inviting himself in. I didn't mind. For some reason I think I got into my head that I needed Dan in that moment.

We're not that close, Dan and me, but we're brother and that's a special bond all in itself. It's odd to think of our relationship in a simple way like that but, in a way, Dan knows me better than Turk, and that says a lot. I mean, I love Turk and Turk's my best friend, but Dan and I suffered through our childhood together and nothing will ever change that.

As for Dr. Cox, currently feeding me steady gazes of daggers into my back as I refuse to look at him, I'm not exactly sure why I had felt comfortable with him. Sure he's the one who decided I could vent and scream and cry my frustrations, but that didn't make anything easier to get out just because I got that permission. Everybody knows I treat Dr. Cox like he's some sort of super hero or a surrogate father or something, but I guess I never realized how much I held onto that comfort until I needed him to act as such.

Anyway, as I had told my side of the story, they had both been surprisingly quiet and, I think, after getting into it, my ramblings started to come together and I was better being a zoned out storyteller who detached from everything.

Starting from the beginning, I told them how I met Mr. Radin in the middle of the hallway at Sacred Heart at the start of my shift. He had looked lost, I told them, and I was concerned with this bruise he had on his right eye. Mr. Radin had told me he had gotten into it with his girlfriend's ex and had, since he got the bruise, been feeling dizzy. I admitted him for tests deducing he probably just had a concussion (ironic now, isn't it?). I kind of threw it off as a regular patient and wasn't worried until…well, until Mr. Radin started acting strange…

Mr. Radin started acting confused and unsure of himself, suddenly not actually sure how he'd gotten the bruise. Then he started rambling on about an apartment he moved into with his dog and, just seconds into a story, would switch all the facts around and say it was a two-story house with cats. He also started fighting me while I was running tests, thinking I was trying to do experiments on him. It had been especially weird when Mr. Radin started yelling things about having to "turn the oven off" or "walk the dog" and even "lock the house". Even Carla, who was usually in the room with me, got freaked out. Before I could really wrap my finger around that, though, our pagers went off.

Dr. Cox knew this part, so I told Dan about the shootout down at the local grocery store that had been going on for the past two or three hours. It had stopped when the police swarmed in and both gunmen went down and died en route. Two hostages and an officer were admitted to Sacred Heart. I started treating one guy, Mr. Smith, once he was out of the ER, and, as I got deeper into my shift, Mr. Radin got lost in the swing of things.

A few hours later, as things started settling down, Carla found Mr. Radin's blood test results and she reminded me about him and his weird freak-out moments. I explained my suspicions of schizophrenia and dissociative identity disorder (or, more commonly known, multiple personality disorder) and was able to dump half my patient load to her in order to focus on Mr. Radin. I told her to watch out for Mr. Smith especially and, for once, I was right. While I was checking on more tests for Mr. Radin, Mr. Smith coded. Fortunately, Elliot was on hand (along with Turk).

After they revived him, Turk came up to tell me what had happened and sort of grounded me when I got upset for not being there. Of course, things didn't get much better when I checked on Mr. Radin and found his room completely deserted. Things went even more downhill when I Dr. Cox found out; and he looked at me as if I was going to be the cause of Armageddon.

"_I was treating a real patient who needed real medical help, not some nut job who keeps going on and on about having to let the dog out and turn his oven off like some petty housewife. You were supposed to turf him and go help Mr. Smith downstairs, he's a damned gunshot wound victim and could've died if Barbie and Turtlehead didn't resuscitate him! How does that feel? A death on you hands?"_

It felt kind of stupid telling that much to Dan, but I only said it because I wanted Dr. Cox to know that I remembered. He'd been looking kind of guilty through that whole part of my tale but in the middle of it I met his eyes for a single moment and said, "Don't worry about it." He'd nodded, but I think, despite my words, he will still worry.

I continued my story by telling them about how I tried to look Mr. Radin up in the contacts he gave me only to figure out I had been lied to. The address he gave me wasn't real and the phone number was out of service. There wasn't much I could do after that except ask everybody to keep a lookout for him so I went on with the rest of my day like normal.

My shift had almost been over at that point so I told Dan and Dr. Cox about my trip through the wing Kelso had shut down and my being "jumped" by Mr. Radin. That much, Dr. Cox knew also. So I filled Dan in on Mr. Radin's slow walk through the corridors of Sacred Heart with his knife to my back and a sneer on his face as he showed me off like some dog on a leash.

Dr. Cox had tried to reason with Mr. Radin, but Mr. Radin wasn't buying any of the crap he went on about "getting out easier" or "nobody needs to get hurt". Out of the corner of my eye I saw that Turk was about to jump Mr. Radin but was stopped by Carla when she saw how close the knife was to my back.

_I'd rather have been cut in the back and have it all over right then and there than go through what I went through on that roof, _I thought to myself, though I never said that particular confession aloud.

Next, I told them how awkward and frightening it was to be up on the hospital roof with a maniac, who was waving a knife and yelling about something that didn't even make sense. After his storm of yelling finished, though, it was very quiet. I think I hated that part the most: the quiet, I mean. News van and cop cars came soon and there was a helicopter shining a light down on us. Police officers were shouting up at Mr. Radin and it was suddenly so noisy and so contradicting to the quiet.

Then Mr. Radin starting talking and mumbling to himself and I was able to catch on to a few snippets. Through the whole thing he had kept referring to some people I only knew as "them" and "they". He had sounded like he was in a big argument. I heard my name tossed in a few times and Mr. Radin kept telling "them" I was a good doctor, a nice person, and all that. It got really confusing. At one point it was as if Mr. Radin was trying to teach me something.

"_You know, Dr. Dorian, I think life is just like this. Exactly like this, I'd like to think. All crazy and loud, bright with it being so dark, people yelling and being so hateful while at the same time being so calm and comforting."_

On the other hand, maybe it was just talk, I don't know.

Then his mood changed and he cut me on my shoulder with the knife: a solid, single jagged cut. He got violent at that point, slapping and punching me around like some rag doll. Somebody, who I later figured to be Dr. Cox, started banging on the door (CLANK! CLANK! CLANK!) and that made Mr. Radin even more freaked out. I think he got desperate, so he pulled me up by the hair, placed me in a chokehold, and held a knife up to my neck.

He kept mumbling: "_Not like this…No-not like this. Please! All right, please, don't make me, please don't make me."_

Afterwards, he kicked me to the floor and stabbed my shoulder with the knife. I deflated at that and got dizzy from lack of sleep and exhaustion of being on shift for so long. I could see Mr. Radin out of the corner of my eyes though, pacing up and down on the half-wall of the roof ledge as he kept pleading and cursing some unnatural force that was arguing with him in his head.

Questions of: "_Do I do it now? Now? Right now? Okay. Now?"_

When I looked back, Mr. Radin had turned around and was staring down toward the lights of the hospital's parking lot. I had tried to fling my unhurt arm out to grab him, but my reaction was too slow and, as Mr. Radin pushed off with a moan, I watched his form freefall to the ground with a-

_AHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH!!!_

_Crash…_

I turned back to stare aimlessly at the roof by that time and my body involuntarily cringed at the sound of his body hitting the ground: the sound of metal against flesh fusing in my mind.

(I also later found out that Mr. Radin landed on Kelso's car and had impacted enough to throw the side view mirror off the car to make it shoot like a bullet where it hit my scooter, Sasha, through the seat and handlebar. Turk took her to the shop for me while I was in the hospital.)

I told Dan, leaving out my crying spell, Dr. Cox found me like that. They had rushed me on a gurney to the ICU and Dr. Wen put in sutures and bandaged up my wound as Carla gave me a sedative to calm me down, which wasn't a big deal at the moment because I was already disassociating. I was mostly unresponsive through the whole night, but the next day I tried to force my normal attitude and jokes. It didn't work. The whole staff had been treating me like glass though and I just got sick of it, so I signed myself out AMA, against medical advice, and Dr. Cox was livid because I had been his patient.

My talk about my four days off was filled with television show reruns, nights of no sleep, and baths that took hours because I kept phasing out. Then there were those awkward dinners with Elliot, where she tried to get me to open up and talk, but I either snapped at or ignored her. Turk came over after his shift to hang out, but that was pretty awkward too.

Carla did the best, I think. She had mostly hung around when I was in my room, trying to go to sleep, being all mother hen in her own way. She gave me glasses of water and made me eat whatever she brought over. I did it all, mostly to get her to leave me alone, but that way was fine for her because it did get me to have a small meal.

Staying at home doing nothing made me sick, I told them, and staying at home with nothing meant only having time to think about what happened. I didn't need that right then. I wanted to get the whole thing off my mind. I called in Kelso and, the next thing I knew, he had gotten me back into the work schedule.

The rest, they knew. They knew I still couldn't handle the memories of Mr. Radin and the roof, and that I was having a tough time concentrating because of it.

"The end, I guess," I had told them.

Now, after muttering everything into my lap before turning my back away from them to finish my story, we're sitting in my room waiting for somebody to break the uneasy silence of–

_Sniffle._

Damn it! I always do that!

My hand moves up to scratch my nose, but it jiggles the IV and I let out a frustrated groan.

"Stop moving Newbie."

I feel Dr. Cox's hand on my right shoulder and flinch as it touches the bandage covering my wound. He says nothing at the obvious discomfort as he takes my wrist and lifts it so he can pull the IV out. He dabs my hand with some gauze and tapes it there before letting go so I can cradle my hand to my chest. It looks stupid, I know, but everything right now is so out of control that I couldn't care less if I'm acting like a child.

Dan leans his back against me and shifts, a physical touch Carla does that's not too much and not too little.

"It's a dumb reason to feel like this," I mumble into the pillow below me. "Some people have worse problems, like getting shot or having a loved one die or something really traumatic like that, but I've got to be a wimp because I can't handle–"

Dr. Cox cuts in, "…being held hostage, getting stabbed, watching some asshole fall to his death–"

"What Coxy is saying," Dan cuts in, angry, "is that you have no reason to feel dumb for reacting this way. Hell, little brother, you know I'd probably be worse off for the ware when it comes to trauma. Not my taste of the pie, if you know what I mean."

I raise a brow and careen my head to look up at him.

Dan catches my confused look and elaborates, "I don't have a neurotic Elliot, close friend Turk, or mother hen Carla."

_Oh._

I turn to catch the eyes of Dr. Cox. "You think PTSD?"

He nods. I nod.

"Post-traumatic stress disorder," Dan says. "Is there medication for that?"

"Don't even think about it, Dan," I tell him, turning back to look out the window. "I don't need anything to make me feel even more nauseous."

"There are medications," Dr. Cox says to Dan, "but the only thing they really help for is to relax the heart. The drugs cannot make somebody forget an event. The solution to a tragic memory is not to figure out how to forget it, but to figure out how to live with it."

I uncurl my body and, after Dan moves off me, and turn so that I'm in a half-sitting position in the hospital bed. I eye Dr. Cox for a split second before my gaze moves back to my hands, which I have hidden in my lap. I gulp. "Dr. Cox …I- it's a bit…" I blink a few times. "…no people can- I…What I mean-"

"Spit it _out_, Newbie."

I look up, sincerely, "Thank you"

Dr. Cox seems taken aback by these words, surprised at how blunt and random in the conversation they come out. He purses his lips and moves to answer, but something draws him out of it and he closes his mouth as soon as it opens, gulping.

He nods.

And that's all I need to know that he understands.

"I'm on shift," he tells Dan and me suddenly. "Kelso is going to be on my ass because I've been in here so long. I'll come back to check on you. In the meantime, I'll send the rest of the A-Team in."

I nod. He nods again.

He pats my shoulder.

"Rest, Newbie."

And he leaves, just like that.

Dan and I are alone now, trapped in each other's company. He's sitting to my right, at the edge of the bed, with one leg tucked underneath him and the other swinging off the hospital bed. His eyes are on me, curious.

I shift uncomfortably. "Look, Dan I–"

"Why'd you call me?"

"_What?_ Why'd I call…?"

"I'm not the best older brother, I know that," Dan says, "and I don't understand exactly why _me _of all people."

I stammer, "Y-you're my _brother_, Dan, flesh and blood a-and, I d-don't know. Sometimes you just need family and–" I frown suddenly. "Look I know a few years ago I said being brothers didn't mean anything between us but I only said that because I was mad. I didn't mean it."

"Johnny–"

"I _needed _you Dan, all right? Brother-to-brother and I don't really know why but all I knew was that I _needed _you and I _needed _you with me because, despite the fact we haven't talked much over the past few years, you _know_ me."

For a moment, Dan says nothing. He searches my eyes, as if looking for a hint of a scheme, but all I can show him is sincerity. I really do mean it, after all. I feel _horrible_ for thinking Dan is a bad brother and I wish I gave him the benefit of the doubt.

Dan finally responds, "That's good to hear, Johnny."

"Good."

I look up and Dan eyes me as a grin plasters on his face. "We're good eggs, little brother."

_Suddenly I see Dan and I all pale and oval shaped as we sit inside of a frying pan that's placed on a stove. Dan is cracked at the top and seeping yellow and he's grinning madly over at me as I tan in the heat beneath our eggy-shaped bodies. _

It's an amazing relief how a laugh can come out as natural as a breath of fresh air as I snap out of my first daydream in a week. Dan watches me with wide eyes, confused, as I clench my side and double over with the bubbly feeling bursting inside me, but he soon catches on and begins to laugh too. A knock at the door catches our attention, but we're so into laughing that we can't even attempt to stop as Turk, Elliot, and Carla enter. Turk catches my carefree gaze first and, with realization, his lips split into a happy grin as he bounces over to me and wraps me into a large hug before breaking down into his own guffaws. Elliot and Carla, at first, seem disturbed at the sight, but soon are giggling along with the rest of us.

Laughter is contagious, I guess.

And that big burden I once felt dragging my chest down, falls off as easy as the laughter floats through the room.

* * *

**EDITED: June 13, 2007**

**I looked back and saw that this chapter was pretty sucky in the editing department, so I went back through and changed it up a little. There may be some noticeable differences, but I don't think anything is truly important. As most know, I'm not the best at grammar and spelling, but I do try and catch everything. I know I don't, though. If there's something obvious, please point it out.**

**Thanks for reading. Please review.**

**HAPPY DAYS**


	10. My Want vs My Need

**My Want vs. My Need**

The roof was warm. It was around 6 o'clock in the morning and I had just managed to sneak through the halls of Sacred Heart without getting caught by anybody that might've recognized me. I walked up to the ½ wall and gently pulled myself up so I was sitting on it with my legs dangling over the edge, my heels kicking brick as I swung them to-and-fro. My head tilted back against the cool air as I looked to the sky and, behind me, I heard the door open and close with a click. I didn't even have to turn my head to know it was Dr. Cox. He sauntered casually up to me and slowly turned to lean his back against the ½ wall, still slightly facing me. We were like that for a while, just soaking in the morning.

I don't think either of us knew what to say to each other, though I'm sure Dr. Cox would deny that if I ever voiced my opinion aloud. In truth, we hadn't seen each other since my last day in the hospital as a patient when he informed me of Kelso's decision to put me on a month long, nonpaying medical leave with weekly sessions from Dr. Sampson. Since then I'd been hauled up in Turk and Carla's guestroom, with Dan on the couch, because they had been weary of me going back to Elliot's place so soon. I didn't mind it. It just meant I didn't have to subject to Elliot making me eat Keith's dinner and listening to their rendezvous at night.

It had been a bit awkward at first, but I think we all adjust particularly well, considering. We were all smiling a bit more and they actually seemed happy whenever I zoned out to my daydreams. Carla finally had somebody to gossip to after her shifts from the hospital, so I was happy to comply when she wished to open the floodgates of drama. Turk and I started watched our old sitcoms again, playing games, and generally just hanging out like we usually did. It was as if things were slowly coming back to normal.

Except Dan, Dan was different in ways I'm not even sure how to describe. I mean, sure, he was normal in a sense that he was still a stiff, got into these major arguments with Carla, played goofy games with Turk, and mooched out on our stuff, but, the way he acted, it almost freaked me out. He was more responsible and patient with me since I was released from the hospital, cooking meals and bringing me medicine when I rubbed my temple or coughed just once. Carla called it the Big Brother Wave, saying that it was normal for family members to cope this way after their siblings get out of the hospital.

I'd had my four sessions with Dr. Sampson too, and we (well, mostly she) talked more about the incident on the roof. I had told her I wanted to go back into the case and figure out what Mr. Radin had, but she blew that whole idea out the window without any response, so I dropped it. After our last session, she dubbed me strong enough to get back to work as long as I didn't participate in any activities that might hinder my mind. Whatever the hell that means.

This, in turn, brings me up to this point, on the roof with Dr. Cox, a month later, with just 30 minutes to go before my shift officially started.

Dr. Cox pursed his lips and cleared his throat. "Look, Clara," he started, "if you're going to jump then you might as well go downstairs and grab Ted real quick because this may as well be his only chance."

I ducked my head and a tiny smirk quirked my lips up. He caught my eye and shook his head.

"They don't know you're here," he stated, more of a statement than a question. I nodded. There was no point in lying; I had snuck out of Turk and Carla's apartment. "Where's Danielle? Gone?"

"Dan," I said, "is probably at the apartment sleeping off a hangover, and I'm not sure if he's ever going to leave at this point. He told me he's starting to like it here."

Dr. Cox groaned. "Hell…"

I shrugged. "Yeah, I've been telling him-"

He turned his head abruptly, cutting me off, and crossed his arms over his chest as he stared me straight in the eye. His mouth moved slowly, almost as if he thought I wouldn't understand him, and he asked, "What did you want, Newbie?"

"Aren't you the one who told me nobody really knows what they want?"

He stared.

Okay… Awkward.

I ducked my head. "What? A man," he scoffed, "can't enjoy a sunset on this beautiful morning?"

"Not you. Not up here."

"It is my shift," I said defensively.

He pointed out, "That doesn't explain why you're up here."

There was no real reason for me being up here and I can see why it seems weird that I am. It's just that I've been thinking of my actions at the hospital as of late and I've realized at how ridiculous it's been to have an irrational fear of roofs. I mean, sure, everybody would probably understand why I would never want to be up here again in my entire life, but it's …I don't know, _stupid_. The roof didn't do anything to me, so why be afraid? I used to love coming up here, sometimes to hit golf balls off the roof and to fling down watermelons, but, other times, it was just to think.

I wanted…closure…

Yeah. Closure is a good word for it.

I sighed finally, though, and shake my head, not answering Dr. Cox's question. He, in turn, frowns, but he says nothing to prompt me about it.

"Look… Dr. Cox, I just…" I trail off and Dr. Cox turns to wait, uncharacteristically patient as I search for the right words, my heels pounding fiercer against the brick wall as I swing my legs more. "Dr. Sampson's sessions- Ooff!" I nearly fall right off the roof as Dr. Cox cuts me off, slamming a piece of paper against my chest as he grips my arm to keep my balance when I start to sway. "What's this?"

Dr. Cox simply lets go tilts his head toward the sky.

My eyes waver back to the onion-thin sheet in my hand and the words of _Radin _and _final prognosis _in the same sentence have me swaying again. This time, however, before Dr. Cox can get a hold of me, I fall backward, back onto the roof. Fortunately, Dr. Cox had enough sense to ease my fall and keep my head from getting another concussion as my back takes most of the force.

I sit up awkwardly, the paper still clenched in my death grip, and shift out of Dr. Cox's hands as I scrabble to my feet so that were standing across from each other. Dr. Cox runs a hand through his hair before stuffing his fists in his pockets. His eyes are evaluating me, making sure I'm all right. I'm fine though, and I tell him so.

"Dammit, Newbie…"

"Sorry," I mutter, my gaze averting his hard stare, "it was a momentary brain lapse." I hold up the paper to him. "What is this for?"

"You wanted to know-"

Wait… The only way he would know that…

"You've been following my sessions!" I say suddenly.

Dr. Cox continues unfazed by, but definitely not denying, my accusation. "I took it from the file and wrote it down for you to see." He shrugs and clears his throat again.

I look to him, hopefully. "What would-"

"You know I won't answer that." He frowns and sags against the ½ wall again as I stare him down. "Listen, Newbie, you may _want _to know but you should only read it if you _need _to know."

Terrific. The great question of want and need again.

I hate it.

Mr. Radin either had schizophrenia or multiple-personality disorder, I knew that for a fact. The question, however, was whether or not I really wanted to know which it was, and, if I did want to know, why in the world did I have this incredible _want_ to _know_?

It would bring no sense of relief, no justice, and no grief. I would just _know;_ nothing else.

So… Do I _need _to know?

I groan in frustration and fold the paper before turning to tear it multiple times, throwing the confetti pieces over the roof and watching them sway in the wind as they disappear from sight. I cross my arms and lean against the wall, letting out a deep breath. A hand lands on my shoulder and I turn to see Dr. Cox at my side, looking toward the sky.

"What I want?" I sigh, pausing, shaking my head. "What I _need_…"

Dr. Cox looks to me.

"You said I'd be ready?"

"I did."

"Am I?"

"Yes"

* * *

**EXEUNT**

While I wanted this story to go out with a big bang, I also wanted an ending that had a Dr. Cox and JD conversation with a good, solid understanding that JD is able to get back on his feet with help from people in his life. I hoped y'all liked the interaction though. Anyway, over the next few months I will edit all the chapters and fix all the critical errors I probably made.

**My Rescue Blues: **The title of this story comes from the song "Rescue Blues" by Ryan Adams. I would've put the lyrics in, but FFN has a rule that does not allow it, and I'm not about to break it. However, it is one of my most favorite songs so, if you can find it, please listen to it.

**Prequel: **I'm sorry to say that I got swayed in a different direction and will, most likely, not write a prequel. I love the slight mystery this story made and it's not appealing to me to write a whole story based on the facts of the whole chapter of "My Confidants". Also, I'm sorry to say, I don't write sequels.

Thanks for reading. Thanks for reviewing.

HAPPY DAYS


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